Somewhere In Time
by Mommints
Summary: The Warrior Mode snippet in a new direction. A young woman finds alternate universe, where the Medjai are alive and well, thanks to a triangle of pyramids. FINISHED Boo hoo LOL The chase, confrontation, Ardeth's confirmation...Pls RR!
1. Default Chapter

__

Somewhere In Time

Disclaimer: The characters of Rick and Evy O'Connell and Ardeth Bay belong to Stephen Sommers and Universal Studios. No infringement intended. All other characters belong to the author. Feedback is appreciated, email Mommint@msn.com

This story was inspired by the Warrior Mode snippets I had posted on FF and some of the suggestions I've received that I should continue the story. See? This is what you get. LOL And to give credit where credit is due, the person that inspired me to try and write a story dealing with time and its alter universes is Dawn; her imagination and creativity with her other fanfics is most inspiring and if you're looking for someone to blame…blame her. LOL 

So enough rambling from me. ;-) Imagine if you will…there is a triangle of time located in the desert, not unlike the Bermuda Triangle, between Abydos, Dendera and the West Bank of Luxor. This is the story of what happens to one young woman who goes through this triangle and finds herself in another world – a world where the Medaji are alive and well.

~*~

"Time is a sort of river of passing events, and strong is its current; no sooner is a thing brought to sight than it is swept by and another takes its place, and this too will be swept away." - Roman Emperor/Philosopher Marcus Aurelius

"Life does not consist mainly, or even largely, of facts and happenings. It consists mainly of the storm of thought that is forever flowing through one's head." - Mark Twain

"Toto, I have a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore." Dorothy, The Wizard of Oz

~*~

****

June 1999

Cairo Police Station

Interrogation Room C

9 am

"I already told you, I don't remember." Cecelia Adams sighed. She removed her glasses and ribbed the bridge of her nose, willing the headache she felt pounding in her temples to go away. Maybe if she kept them closed long enough, the looks of disbelief and skepticism would disappear.

"You do not remember, or do not wish to remember?" Detective Bijan Rasheed-Mudawar softly accused. His dark eyes assessed the young woman seated across the table, observing her physical appearance and behavior. In the short time he had come to know her, he had already reached his professional conclusion: she was a paradox, a seemingly difficult young woman who displayed the familiar Western tenacity and independence yet had an underlining touch of vulnerability that was intriguing and bothersome. Her appearance in the emergency ward of a local clinic two days ago wasn't wholly unexpected, but her fantastic tales of a tribe of mythical warriors in the desert had earned her a temporary stay in the asylum.

"What difference does it make, you've made up your mind not to believe me anyway," Cecelia snapped. God, she was tired and felt…unbalanced. What in God's name had happened to her? Memories of the past several days were hazy and disjointed; everything that had been once good and familiar had radically changed. If she listened to her instincts, they were telling her that time had somehow become distorted and along the way, she believed her sanity as well. Detective Rasheed-Mudawar was persistent but Cecelia could barely explain her visions of tattooed men clad in long black robes, brandishing swords and riding through the desert on mighty steeds to herself, let alone convince someone else. Was she really insane? Crumbling under the intense stare coming from the detective, Cecelia covered her face with her hands and suppressed a moan of defeat. 

"Tell me once more what happened to your party. Why did you come to Egypt?" Bijan coaxed. He already knew the answer, having thoroughly read the report filed by his partner the first day Miss Adams had been taken into custody. He kept it nearby in a manila file folder along with the psychiatric evaluation, in case he needed to refer back to it. His eyes focused intently on the woman before him; he silently motioned for the secretary who sat off to his side to start writing down what was said.

"You'll laugh again," Cecelia snorted and looked up at him as the tears gathered in her eyes. "But that's okay, I'm ready to indulge in some hysterical laughter myself."

"I am not here to judge you, I'm here to help," Bijan said. "I cannot do that unless I understand all the facts. I need to know everything that has happened to you over the past several days. Even if it means that you have to repeat your story over and over again."

Cecelia wiped her face and blinked in surprise when Bijan handed her a tissue. She blew her nose, composed herself and peered at the detective, weighing his words and sincerity. "All right," she finally sighed. She put her glasses back on, smoothed the flyaway tendrils of hair that had escaped from the braid that hung down her back and slowly began her tale.

"I came to Egypt because my employer, archeologist Dr. Scott Weaver, believed in miracles. He had been diagnosed with a rare strain of cancer four months ago and had been given a grim prognosis; he had a year left to live."

Bijan reached into the folder and pulled out one sheet of the report, running one finger over the contents. "You stated to Detective Seif al Din that you were under the assumption that the reason behind the trip was to meet Dr. Zahi Hawass, yes?"

"Yes. As I had explained before, about a month ago he received a letter from Dr. Hawass inviting Scott to come join one of his crews at the Bahariaya Oasis. Help was needed to catalog the recent discoveries in the Valley of the Golden Mummies and the Western field was being re-excavated. You do believe me about Dr. Hawass, don't you?" Cecelia peevishly asked.

"I am aware of Dr. Hawass' work," Bijan stated evenly and tucked the page back into the report. "Please continue."

"All of us checked into our respective hotels, and then I contacted the Ministry of Culture. They assigned us our guides, and the next day we met them in Cairo outside the museum. I had believed they were going to take us out to the site to meet with Dr. Hawass. Instead, without our knowledge, Scott had met with the guides prior to our leaving and altered the itinerary. I firmly believe now that this change is what led Scott and the team to their deaths." Cecelia whispered. Unconsciously she started to shred the tissue, unaware of her nervous actions until she looked down at the mess in her hands. 

"How many people were in Dr. Weaver's team?" Bijan asked. He had seen what she had done to the tissue and astutely realized she was probably suffering from post-traumatic stress over the death of her friends. 

"I already told you," Cecelia sighed. "Seven."

"What change did Dr. Weaver instigate?"

Cecelia crumpled up the shredded remains of the tissue and tossed it into a nearby trashcan. She stared back at Bijan and mentally assessed his appearance, surprised to conclude that he was quite attractive. Determined but attractive. "I assume you know all the myths and legends regarding the pyramids and sacred sites of Egypt?"

"I am familiar with them as well as some other popular theories," Bijan gave Cecelia a brief smile. "There are the traditional Egyptologists, including Dr. Hawass, which believe the pyramids are tombs. However since they are void of decoration, and no sarcophagi or mummies have ever been found, there are others who question this theory. Some theorize that the pyramids were energy conductors; others like to contend they were used as guidance for extra-terrestrial spaceships since they can be seen from space. What did Dr. Weaver believe about them?"

"His hope was that by traveling to the Temple of Hathor, located in Dendera, and performing a simple cleansing ritual inside of it, he would be cured of his cancer. It is believed that by entering the temple, one could be healed of any physical, mental, psychological and emotional ailments." Cecelia cringed at the silence that followed her statement and she stared at Bijan, waiting for the usual cynical statements. 

"How long have you worked for Dr. Weaver?" Bijan knew his question caught Cecelia off guard but he decided to cling to the rapidly blossoming belief in the back of his mind. He called it following a hunch. Despite her lack of credibility and obvious confusion over the events of the past few days, the timid looking assistant to the archeology professor had no clue what had really happened to her

"Two years," Cecelia replied. 

"And during that timeframe, didn't your relationship with Dr. Weaver evolve into a friendship?"

"If you're implying I should have known about Scott's motives for booking an expedition to Dendera, well I've got news for you, I didn't. Scott kept his personal life just that…personal. I didn't realize anything was wrong until we were into the second day of our journey," Cecelia snapped. She crossed her arms and leaned back in the chair, glaring at the detective across the table. 

"Let me recap all of this, Miss Adams," Bijan said quietly. "You and your employer traveled to Egypt under false pretenses, and lied to the Ministry of Culture regarding the true nature of your trip. And now you tell me Dr. Weaver was on some sort of spiritual sabbatical to Dendera in the hopes of curing his cancer. Yet I have seven men who have seemingly disappeared without a trace and you, who cannot seem to remember how she arrived back in Cairo, safe and unharmed." 

"Pretty much," Cecelia replied. She leaned forward, unfazed by the detective's tactics. "Do you want to hear the rest of my story or not?"

Bijan leaned back and waved one hand in the air. "By all means, please continue. I am finding this most fascinating."

"I can do without the sarcasm. I don't know how I got into that clinic. All I know is that my boss and his friends are dead, I didn't do anything yet I'm the one being treated like a criminal. Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?" Cecelia muttered. 

Bijan closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling a tension headache building up in the back of his head. "Go on, Miss Adams."

Cecelia sighed in exasperation then started talking again. "We traveled for two days, reaching Abydos by Monday. No one had really questioned or expressed any concerns to Scott that we were traveling the wrong way until that night. A few of the guys approached him after we had made camp, and this prompted a meeting where Scott finally told everyone the truth. At first, the guys were really angry but after a while, and from Scott talking to each and every one of the team personally, they all agreed to continue with the expedition to Dendera." Cecelia stopped and gave a soft laugh. "They all rallied around Scott and the quest to save his life without question, and certainly without hesitation. They were a great bunch of guys. Anyway, on Tuesday, we continued traveling south, passing by Amra and Hu but by mid-afternoon, we were caught in a sudden sandstorm. I don't remember much about it except we waited it out as best we could, and then traveled until nightfall. When I think about this now, we were so naïve, so sure of ourselves and in our mission to save Scott that we became careless. Blissfully ignorant to the fact that we were being watched and hunted, like prey."

"And this is when you were attacked by…what did you call them? Bandits?" Bijan asked.

"Yes, and that's not the name I made up for them," Cecelia clarified. "To me, I couldn't tell the difference between a Bedouin and a Tuareg if they came up and bit me on the ass. I was Dr. Weaver's assistant, my area of expertise limited to data processing, dictation, and generally being his Girl Friday."

"Did you love Dr. Weaver?"

"Where did that question come from?" Cecelia rolled her eyes. "No."

"You answered that very quickly, Miss Adams," Bijan said wryly. "Care to answer it again?"

A sudden image flooded Cecelia's mind and caught her by surprise: images of a man, handsome and exotic looking with dark, crescent shaped tattoos that graced both of his cheeks. The firm outline of his jaw framed by a trimmed goatee, his lean muscular body, dressed in flowing robes. "No, I didn't love him," Cecelia whispered hoarsely even as her heart joyfully sang with the truth: I think I love another and his name is…

"Tell me what happened when the bandits attacked," Bijan's voice was gentle and coaxing. It had the desired effect and brought Cecelia out of her reverie.

"I believe they attacked us so they could steal our equipment: CB's, radios, laptops, anything they could get their grubby little hands on. They cut loose our pack mules and left us whatever they couldn't pilfer from our tents. I don't remember exactly when it happened, maybe around midnight or one in the morning. All I know is that I woke up to the sound of men dying…"

~*~

****

June 1925

Egypt

North of the City of Thebes

Midnight

Cecelia stood paralyzed with fear in the middle of what remained of the camp, oblivious to the chaos that surrounded her from all sides. Men were running and shouting, tents were on fire and the night air was filled with thick black smoke. Gunfire erupted in short bursts, making her unconsciously flinch with terror. Her world was bathed in reds, oranges and black as it was slowly consumed by fire.

"Run, run, run" sang the litany of panic in her mind and her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Yet she was unable to move, a reluctant witness to the horrible scenes of slaughter all around her as her friends were methodically cut down. Her legs felt heavy, as if mired in quicksand, her chest heaved with each breath and her eyes were wild with fright. Her gaze swept over the carnage until she saw her own death bearing down on her. A man, whose face was contorted and obscene with the lust for killing, charged forward with his rifle aimed directly at her chest.

With an evil grin he started to pull the trigger. 

__

~*~

The warriors chose to remain impartial and watched from the ridge above as the foreigners camp was attacked by desert bandits. Dealing with the ferocity of these men would certainly send the same message the Medjai would have delivered to the people below – leave or die. They remained impassive as the destruction escalated, the tide of the battle showing that the outcome would still be favorable. The weak and defenseless were fleeing away from the fighting thus upholding part of the Medjai warrior oath.

Until the woman staggered out of one tent.

Ardeth Bay watched with growing alarm as it became quite evident that her life was in danger.

"Why does she not flee?" wondered a warrior.

Ardeth's response was to kick his heels and his stallion surged forward, down the rocky slope as pebbles and stones followed in its wake. Man and horse raced across the open desert, his dark eyes intently watching her try to move, take one faltering step and he silently urged her to take another. He saw the oval of her face become clearer, the dark curtain of her hair waving in the breeze like a silken banner, and the light fabric of her clothes clinging to her lush womanly shape. He followed her line of vision to see the raised rifle pointing straight at her heart. He urged Sabeeh to gallop faster, felt his beloved horse respond to his silent command with a burst of speed and he leaned over to the side with one arm out.

__

~*~

Insane laughter bubbled up from Cecelia's throat when she caught sight of a new threat, a dark apparition bearing down on her from one side. Her gaze darted between the man intent on shooting her and this new danger. But the sudden paralysis that held her body prisoner would not let her escape. She closed her eyes and willingly submitted to her fate.

"Behold a dark rider…" she murmured and waited for death.

A second later Cecelia heard the crack of the rifle but instead of feeling the slug enter her flesh, a hard arm grabbed her around the waist. She gasped and heard a grunt of pain. Then her world tilted precariously as she seemed to be flying through the air, her feet dangling off the ground. Her eyes flew open in shock and she stared down in amazement to find she was anchored against a horse, the ground passing by with sickening speed. The burning remains of the camp retreated behind them, black clouds of smoke billowing into the night sky. She squirmed, tried to shift her body to ease her discomfort and placed her hands on her rescuers arm.

"Do not move…" he hissed in her hear, his voice deep and richly accented, the last word broken with a hitch of pain.

Cecelia obeyed but had to shift again when the ground slowly stared to move up under her feet. The arm that once held her so tightly loosened and before she could react, she was tumbling again, falling onto the sand. She hit hard, rolled, and a groan of pain slid past her clenched teeth. Something fell by her side and she scrambled out of the way until she came to a halt. Her eyes widened in shock when she saw the dark rider lying nearby, his body unnaturally still. She climbed to her knees and stayed there, drawing in gulps of air as she stared at him in confusion. Her mind swirled with questions: who was he, why did he help her? And should she help him?

Cautiously, she moved towards him until she was by his side. He was dressed in long black robes, his broad chest covered by ammunition belts and bandoliers in the shape of an X, a strange looking sword strapped to his side. He wore a turban that partially covered his long, dark hair and a piece of cloth covered his face.

Cecelia's hand slowly reached out and gently tugged down the face covering, revealing a face that made a thrilling tremor race through her battered body. He was handsome and exotic looking with dark, crescent shaped tattoos that graced both cheeks. His face was pale under its dark complexion, framed by a trimmed goatee and involuntarily her fingertips brushed against those mysterious markings. Her gaze ran over his lean muscular body and soon discovered the reason for his unconsciousness – a bloody bullet wound in one shoulder.

She gently probed it and suddenly his hand shot out and grabbed hers in a strong grip, making her shriek in terror. He held it prisoner as his eyes, glittering with a suppressed and barely contained energy bore into hers. He pulled her forward until she was pressed against his chest, her breasts flattened against his hard body. Their faces were close, so close she could imagine inhaling his sweet breath, and released one of her own. Her eyes centered on his full, bottom lip then wandered up to find him still intently staring at her, an unreadable expression on his face. Her fingertips played over his face again, lingering on his lips that were now parted and she had to stop herself from dipping her head and supping from them, like drinking sweet forbidden nectar.

But his hand crept up into her hair and applied a gentle pressure on the back of her neck, giving her all the permission she needed. She bent her head, brushing her lips against his even as she inwardly sighed with contentment. They tested and tasted each other's mouth until the kiss grew ravenous, abruptly ending when she accidentally brushed his shoulder wound. He groaned from the contact and almost passed out from the pain. The sound of approaching riders broke them from their reverie and before she could react, she was surrounded by twenty men, all dressed in black.

She was once again a target they now had aimed in their sights. 


	2. Part II

Part II 

"Where…is she?" Ardeth gasped and flinched when several pairs of hands probed the bloody entrance wound on his shoulder.  He stared up at each of the three warriors that were tending to him and tried to determine from their facial expressions the severity of his wound, but eventually gave up.  Only Nabil, who knelt by his side, met his commander's intense gaze and Ardeth saw quite clearly the concern reflected in his friend's eyes.  He tried to contain the groan of pain when they pushed him up into a sitting position and applied pressure to the exit wound.

"The woman is with Jameel," Nabil replied.  He ripped a section from his robe and with the help of Honored Second Berin al Usama, sub-commander of the tribe of the Fifth, they wrapped Ardeth's shoulder as best they could.  

"He needs a healer," Berin's deep voice rumbled up from within his chest.  He knelt on the other side of Ardeth and glanced at Nabil, the first signs of worry deeply etched in his dark eyes.  But he held his silence as his large hands quickly and efficiently tied the makeshift bandage.

"We must leave this place and quickly," Jericho ibn Sakhr stated and slowly withdrew his scimitar from its sheath.  He stood next to Berin as his dark gaze scanned the desert horizon.  The blanket of night was heavy and oppressive, covering the landscape, concealing all life as an eerie silence descended.  Jericho's instincts warned him the bandits were not done with their raid yet.  He looked over to the remaining warriors that held the horses and nodded at his sahib, Dharr al Rushdi.  A silent understanding passed between them and Dharr gave a hand gesture for the rest of the Medjai to mount. 

~*~

"Drink," the curly haired warrior offered her a canteen with a boyish smile and Cecelia blinked in surprise.  She took it without hesitation and took a sip, too numb to think beyond the moment.  Too scared to dwell on the recent past, especially the death of Scott and his team.  She stared at him unabashedly; he had the kindest and friendliest face out of the stern-faced men who now seemed to be her allies.

"What is your name?" Cecelia asked with a weak smile, surprised that she responded to his dimpled grin.  His eyes were as dark as chocolate, and as mysterious as the night.  She eagerly lifted the canteen to her lips, intent on drinking more of the sweet tasting water but the warrior quickly captured her hand.    

"Ana ismee Jameel ibn Hisein," he replied and gently tilted the canteen downwards.  "Take small sips or else you may become ill." 

Cecelia suddenly clapped a hand over her mouth as hysterical laughter bubbled up from inside.  "I may become ill?" she asked and rolled her eyes. "Somehow I think that would be the least of my worries considering I was almost shot by…by this man who God knows what he is then rescued by your friend who I must say really hurt my ribs when he grabbed me and almost flung me onto his horse and did you see…"

Jameel's eyes widened in surprise at her sudden outburst and he glanced over at a tall, silent warrior who stood watching over them, his arms folded across his huge chest.  He shrugged helplessly and the warrior coughed once to hide his laughter.  "She is nervous, ya ukh," he explained.

"Indeed," Makin murmured and turned to mount his horse.

"I am not nervous, I am scared to death," Cecelia cried.  She shoved the canteen back at Jameel and jumped to her feet, determined to speak to the man who had saved her life.  She ignored Jameel's startled shout from behind her; anger over the injustice and sorrow from the death of her associates fueled her actions but blinded her logic.  It gave her a sense of false bravado and she stormed across the sand until she came up to the small group of black robed men still huddled around a figure sitting on the ground.  It never registered in her mind that she should have used caution in approaching them.  Never occurred to her that she was considered an outsider, a foreigner or _khawagat_ in their land and she should try to be diplomatic.  All she knew was that she wanted answers and wouldn't be satisfied until _someone_ gave them.   

Her advance was effectively stopped by a huge mountain of a man who stood solidly in her path, his arms folded across his massive chest.  She gasped in surprise at his sudden, foreboding appearance and her eyes grew round with shock when she realized that he definitely had the height advantage.  He towered over her, the scowl on his face intimidating and uncompromising, the dark tattoos on his skin making him look striking and savage.  

Cecelia tried to step around him but her path was blocked by another warrior, not as tall or fiercesome as the first but nonetheless successful in stopping her advance.  He stood as his comrade did, shoulder to shoulder, silent and indifferent.  

"Oh for pete's sake, must you all do the same thing?  I just want to talk to him," Cecelia sighed exasperated and pointed to the wounded man.

"Berin, Jericho…" called out a weak voice.  "Waqaf la-taHt."

Silently the warriors broke apart and she hurried forward, ignoring the sensation that something horrible was going to happen and soon.  She knelt down by his side, next to another warrior who stared at her with gray colored eyes and she blinked in surprise at this discovery.  In his steady gaze she found no malice or censure for actions.  He gave her a brief nod but did not relinquish his hold on the wounded warrior who now leaned heavily against him for support.

"Please can you tell me what's going on?" Cecelia asked and reached out to touch Ardeth's shoulder.  

"Do not fear…my men will…take care of you," Ardeth replied and fought to remain conscious.  "Even if I am…unable to."

"But I don't understand.  Who are you and why…" her voice trailed away when she thought she heard the sound of distant thunder.

Berin and Jericho heard it as well and they stood poised for a brief moment in time, neither warrior wishing to believe the outcome of this skirmish could end unfavorably.

"Get Ardeth to the horses," Jericho advised Berin and turned around to face this new threat.  

~*~

_"I must admit, Miss Adams, that your story has the potential to be quite a movie for __Hollywood__.  Action.  Adventure. The good guys being chased by the bad guys," Bijan quipped sarcastically.  "The damsel in distress being rescued by…uh, what was his name again?"_

_"__Ardeth__Bay__," Cecelia whispered.  Despite the warmth from the sun shining through a nearby window, heating the room as it made its eternal ascent into the sky, she shivered and wrapped her arms around her waist.  Just saying his name sent chills of excitement down her spine.  _

_Bijan chuckled and leaned back in his chair, crossing his long legs underneath the table.  Speculatively he watched the woman who sat across from him, then seemed to come to a decision**.  **"A rather odd name, don't you think?"_

_Cecelia looked at the detective warily. "What do you mean?"_

_"I don't remember all the details but I believe that was the name of one of the characters from an old horror movie," Bijan said and thoughtfully tapped his chin.  "I think it was about mummies, if I'm not mistaken."_

_"What does this have to do with anything?" Cecelia asked.  _

_"Well you could have picked a better name, you know, something a bit more Islamic. Like Ali or Abdul," Bijan replied and his eyes narrowed.  "You have sworn to me there is nothing contrived about your adventure in the desert, yet this man's name contradicts your efforts for authenticity. How do I know that what you've told me is not some wild, elaborate cover-up for the murder of your friends?"_

_"You can go to hell, I didn't kill anyone." Cecelia retorted angrily and glared at the detective.  She folded her arms across her chest.  "I'm telling you the truth, no matter how absurd or unreal it may seem.  I'm doing you and your partner a favor by cooperating and not simply demanding that I be released to the American Embassy."_

_"I don't need favors," Bijan stated evenly.  "I need facts.  And what I have so far indicates that Dr. Weaver and his team were murdered by unknown assailants and that you, my dear woman, are conveniently the only witness and survivor?  Did the possibility that your life may be danger ever occur to you?  That the men you call bandits will now come after you?"_

_"They won't," Cecelia stated.  Her certainty came as a surprise to herself, but what was even more troubling was that she knew it to be the truth; she was safe from harm. _

_"How do you know?"_

_"I just know."_

_"You're going to have to give me a better answer than that…"_

_"Because they're dead, okay?" Cecelia cried out, frustrated.  _

_Bijan blinked in surprise and leaned on the table, staring intently at Cecelia.  "How would you know that?" he asked. _

_"Do you want to hear the rest of the story or not?" Cecelia countered.  _

_"Yes, please continue.  Where were we?" Bijan mused and leaned back, shuffling the pages of the report.  "Ah yes, you were rescued once, taken a short distance away but had to retreat again because the bandits were still pursuing you?"_

_"Yes.  Ardeth had been seriously wounded and needed immediate medical treatment."_

_"Did you at least get the name of this warrior's race of people?  Find out what tribe these men come from?  Men whose names you can't remember save one but you can assure me they all looked similar in appearance?  Same black robes, same tattoos, same weapons?" Bijan asked.  _

_"I was told they were called Medjai," Cecelia stated softly, surprised at the sudden thrill that raced through her body the way the name rolled off her tongue._

_"But Miss Adams," Bijan leaned forward across the table, pining Cecelia with the weight his stare. "There is no such tribe called Medjai."_

_~*~_

The first shot rang out just as Jameel had reached his horse and he leaped into the saddle.  He muttered a dark curse when he saw Makin's body suddenly stiffen and almost topple off his mount.  Sending a silent prayer to Allah for His help, Jameel kicked his horse into a gallop and raced to his friend's side.  He was able to stop the warrior from falling to the ground, but his success was short-lived.  The bandits surged over a tall crest of a dune, a hundred throats filling the air with their battle cries. ****

"iHna lazim mishwar!" Jameel shouted to his fellow warriors.  He took the lead rein from Makin's horse as the warrior slumped over the horse's neck and with the animal in tow, rode over to his fallen chief.

~*~

"iHna lazim mishwar!"_ ****_

Nabil reacted instantly to the shout and pulled Ardeth to his feet.  Berin swiftly appeared by his side and despite Ardeth's weak protests the sub-commander hefted the warrior over his shoulder as if he weighed no more than a child.  As Berin raced towards the nearest horse, the metallic ring of metal pulled from its sheath announced Nabil's scimitar was free from its scabbard.  He reached for the woman and pulled her into the safety of his arms.

"Come," he urged her and together they ran for the nearest horse.

Jericho followed behind them, his own weapon raised in puny defense as the bandits charged closer, their rifles blazing with round after round of ammunition fired.  He felt the breeze from one bullet pass by his ear and instinctively ducked, then turned to make certain Ardeth was seated on a horse.  He watched as Berin slapped the animal's hindquarters and it leaped away, guided by another warrior to safety.  He took a few steps backwards, guarding Nabil's back as the warrior pushed the unwilling woman onto another horse.  A few moments, she was safely on her way with the rest of the Medjai, away from the oncoming flood of bandits.

Nabil backed himself up against Jericho and waited, his face grim with determination, his weapon held point out and ready for battle.  Berin joined them a moment later, and together the three warriors bravely waited as their own deaths closed in on them from all sides.

Each man took a small measure of comfort with the knowledge that their chieftain was safely riding away from the danger and that they as Medjai were honoring their oath…_hatta maut_.

~*~

Cecelia stood paralyzed with indecision in the middle of the makeshift encampment the warriors had swiftly constructed, and seemed almost oblivious to the frenzied activity that had erupted.  Yet she was keenly aware that she wasn't the only one who had suffered the loss of friends on this terrible night.  Riderless horses straggled in alone or in pairs and were quickly captured by the warriors, and then led away and hobbled nearby.  Although she was rapidly learning that these strange men were quite adapt at hiding their emotions, a sense of sorrow hung in the air.  Each new arrival could mean only one thing - the death of these warriors, which seemed pointless and confusing.

She recalled that on the third night they had made camp, the guides had spontaneously entertained the men with stories.  They spoke of the mythical guardians of the desert:  fierce, tattooed warriors dressed in black and exceptionally skilled in battle.  Scott and his friends had all laughed, needing the release since the sand storm had raised concerns that their current course towards Dendera had been altered.  They were all blissfully unaware that the real danger lurked in the shadows of the night: soulless, godless men that had watched and waited to attack.  The tranquility of the darkness had been shattered with their battle cry and like a swarm of locusts, they swept through the camp, capturing and killing indiscriminately.  

Cecelia felt a shiver of apprehension race down her spine as she recalled the narrow escape of her own demise and wrapped her arms around her body to ward off the chill.  Her thoughts drifted back to her rescuer:  the feel of his strong arms around her waist, the odd remembrance of his scent, a heady combination of male, spice and warmth.  The heated passion that had infused her body when she responded to his kiss…

She needed to know that her dark rider was alive, that he had somehow survived the reluctant retreat away from the danger and yearned for the reassurance she would see looking into his eyes.  Quickly her gaze swept over the encampment until she saw his warriors had once again surrounded him and his name sprang to her lips in an anguished whisper.  "Ardeth…" 

~*~

"Has the rider returned with the healers?" Dharr asked Sharif.  He stood in the center of the camp, issuing commands and trying to establish some sense of order.  The Medjai were uncharacteristically thrown off-balance, rattled by their sudden involvement when Ardeth had impulsively ridden into the foreigners' camp and rescued the woman.

"Aiwa, they have returned a short time ago," Sharif replied.  "Raphael is…"

Dharr ignored Sharif for a moment and hurried over to help Ardeth into the healer's tent.  "Hold him gently, ya ukh, and be mindful of his wounds," Dharr patiently instructed his sahib Solman as the warrior slowly lifted a semi-conscious Ardeth from his horse.

"Ardeth ya ra'is," Solman replied fervently as he obeyed Dharr's instructions and effortlessly cradled the body of Ardeth against his broad chest.  His eyes widened in surprise when his hand brushed against the sticky fabric of Ardeth's robes, the congealed blood seeping through his fingers and he looked at Dharr for reassurance.

"Aiwa, you are correct. Now take him to the healer's tent and do not worry," Dharr said as he continued with his instructions, "Ardeth will be fine."

"Dharr ya sahib," Solman murmured quietly and turned away, his purpose now focused solely on complying with Dharr's command.

As the giant warrior slowly lumbered away with his burden towards the tent, Dharr gave a weary sigh as Sharif appeared by his side.

"How many are unaccounted for?" he asked as they slowly followed Solman towards the tent. With growing horror, Sharif realized that the path they followed in Solman's wake was splattered with tiny ruby colored droplets of blood.

"We have lost Talal and Yusef that we know of, and Nabil, Berin and Jericho are still missing," Dharr replied grimly.  He glanced back to where the woman had been standing since she had first arrived at the encampment and he fought against the anger that settled in his heart.  Loyal to his chief and to his people, Dharr was beginning to find it hard to reconcile the loss of his fellow warriors and possibly his chief against the life of one mere woman.

"What in the name of Allah happened?" Sharif couldn't help but ask as the two warriors stopped in front of the entrance to the tent.

Dharr didn't have an immediate response as he continued to stare at the woman he believed to be the reason for so much sorrow.  "We honored our vow and obeyed the law of the desert:  to protect those who are weak and defenseless.  I can only hope that performing our sacred duty will not cost more than we can afford to pay," he finally said after a few moments of silence.  

"What of the woman?  You do realize what she is, do you not?" Sharif asked.

"Aiwa, one only has to look at her strange clothes to realize she is not of this world," Dharr sighed.  

"We must keep contact with her down to a minimum, according to our laws and the tribal decrees," Sharif stated.  His dark gaze swept over her form, silently appraising her appearance and he raised an eyebrow in surprise when he noticed the odd shoes she wore on her feet.  "Although I must confess I am curious; I have never met a barranidinyi mara before."

Dharr found his first smile, albeit a weak one, of the night at Sharif's comment.  "Nor have I." 

~*~

Raphael had been ready to retire for the evening when a lone warrior rode into the village on a lathered horse, shouting for a healer.  His intentions of resting disrupted, Raphael and another healer had only enough time to grab their satchels of medical supplies before they were riding out of the city and into the night.  As they rode across the desert towards an unknown destination, the warrior could only give them the briefest of details.  The chieftain Ardeth Bay's squad had been attacked by rogue bandits who had been tormenting various cities along the Nile, and Ardeth had sustained a serious injury.  

Eventually, Raphael found himself standing in the center of a tent, directing the tide of warriors that flowed around him. His mind sorted through the wounded and quickly determined who needed immediate care.  He watched as his fellow healer Mahir rushed over to help Jameel as he brought Makin over to a nearby pallet.  Suddenly Makin uttered a low moan, slipped out of Jameel's arms and crumpled to the ground. Mahir shouted for help and several tense minutes later, Makin was resting on the pallet as the healer tore open his robes.  With Jameel's assistance, he assessed the wound in Makin's side and treated him as quickly as possible.

Satisfied that the warrior was being cared for, Raphael turned around just as Ardeth was gently deposited onto another pallet.  Although Solman had carried Ardeth with infinite care, the movement nonetheless had invoked a moan of pain from him.  He regained consciousness just as Raphael bent down by his side to examine the wounds.  

"Sahil, sahil, ya ra'is," Raphael murmured gently to Ardeth.  He leaned over the weakly struggling warrior and with a fatherly tenderness, stroked his warm brow. "Save your strength, you will need it for your recovery."

"I cannot…rest until I know…the fate of my men," Ardeth replied, the words mingled with gasps as he fought to remain conscious.  Awareness ebbed and flowed, habitual instinct prompted him to rise and take command but his trembling body refused to obey. He tried to sit up and rest on his elbows, but the pain shooting down from his shoulder was too intense. Instead, he fell back, unable to stop the cry of agony that spilled from his throat.

"Rest you must," Raphael gently contradicted and with a slight nod of his head, Solman appeared by Ardeth's side.  Solman placed his large hands on Ardeth's good shoulder, effectively and carefully keeping the warrior from rising again.  "I need to tend to your injuries now."

"Do what you can, healer," Dharr said as he and Sharif stood at the foot of the pallet.  He tried to maintain his composure, but seeing his chief literally shaking from pain made his last words come out hoarse with grief.  "We cannot lose Ardeth."

"I will do what is necessary, but I fear the wounds need to be cauterized with a heated blade," Raphael murmured as he peeled back one section of Ardeth's bloody robe and studied one of the wounds.  "It is the only way if we are to take him back to the city; I dare not risk performing any procedures here.  The chance of a severe infection would be too great."

"Where…is Nabil?" Ardeth asked as he struggled not to surrender to the overwhelming desire for sleep.  His head swam and he felt his stomach roll with nausea; the pain that burned from his shoulder all but stole his breath away.  Coherent thought was rapidly becoming impossible but the need to know the fate of his men, of his warrior brothers pushed Ardeth to test the limits of his physical endurance.

An uncomfortable silence followed the question as Raphael gestured for help in rolling Ardeth to his side so he could examine the other wound.  He glanced up at Dharr and Sharif, and then frowned a moment later when he realized the warrior's reluctance to answer meant only one thing - the loss of more brothers.

"Nabil?" Ardeth asked again, unable to hold back the groan that slipped past clenched teeth from Raphael's ministrations.

"He has…not yet returned," Sharif replied, hesitating to tell his chief that one of his most trusted commanders and friend may have not survived the attack.

"We will send out a patrol…" Dharr's suggestion was unexpectedly interrupted by the sentry's shout announcing the arrival of riders into the encampment.  Tentative hope bloomed in his heart that the missing had returned and he hurried over to the tent flaps, his hand almost touching the canvas to push it aside.  Suddenly they were thrown open and he stepped back a few paces as the large form of Berin ducked inside.

Surprised and excited shouts of "Hamad" filled the air as the warriors crowded around the once believed missing men.  Dharr eagerly took the weight of Jericho away from Berin and helped his friend hobble over to the nearest pallet. He gave a silent prayer of thanks to Allah that his sahib only sustained a minor wound on his right leg and shouted for some assistance from a healer.

Sharif went to offer his help to Berin but the warrior refused, his face stoically grim as he stiffly turned away and walked out through the flaps.  Sharif tried to follow but stepped backwards when Berin reappeared, this time supporting the weight of Nabil who walked beside him.  

"Ana mabsoot, ya ukh," Nabil tried to reason with his friend but Berin stubbornly refused to listen and the two of them argued until Nabil was finally sitting on a pallet.  "I have only a few minor cuts…"

"You are injured…" Berin replied.  He saw the other healer hurrying by, and with one large hand reached out and grabbed Mahir by the nape of the neck, propelling him straight towards Nabil.  The growled command of, "You will look after ya sahib, hal-waqt ajab" sent the man scurrying over to the Commander within moments and Berin grunted with satisfaction.

"Ya ra'is do you see?" Raphael whispered to Ardeth and gently cradled his head in his lap.  "Nabil has returned along with Berin and Jericho, Allah be praised."

Silence immediately filled the tent as the warriors waited expectantly for Ardeth to respond.  He pushed past the pain that had blanketed his thoughts and weakly raised a hand, gesturing for the men to come closer.  "Kif" he whispered when Berin and Nabil were by his side.  "How did…you…?"

"It was by the grace of Allah, ya ukh," Nabil replied as he knelt down by Ardeth's side.  He frowned when he saw the pale complexion of Ardeth's face and the waves of pain that continually washed over it.  Gently he took Ardeth's hand with his own and believed that by this contact alone, it would lend his wounded friend some much needed strength.

"Reinforcements arrived, led by Commander Ishaq from the Tribe of the First," Berin stated and leaned over Nabil's shoulder.  "The bandits were repelled by the force of Kedar's assault and will never again attack the innocent and unsuspecting."

With a heartfelt sigh of relief, Ardeth could now finally cave into the darkness that had been threatening to consume his consciousness.  Most of his men had safely returned and as Raphael prepared the blade to seal the entrance wound on his shoulder, his last thought was of the woman who had seemed to be the catalyst of these recent events.

As his head lolled to one side, Ardeth was heard to whisper, "Where…is she?"

~*~

_"What's that?" Cecelia warily eyed the brown paper bag that Bijan had casually tossed onto the table.  "Incriminating evidence?"_

_"Lunch," Bijan replied, eyes twinkling with humor.  He had just returned from stepping outside the room for a few minutes and reached into the bag, pulling out two small, wrapped items.  "According to the universal laws and rules passed by the Geneva Convention, I am to treat my prisoner as humanely as possible.  So eat."_

_Despite the tension of the past four hours from the detective's arduous questioning, Cecelia smiled and felt her stomach rumble in response to the food.  She reached for what she thought to be a sandwich, peeled back the wrapper and tentatively took a bite.  As the strong taste of feta cheese and tomato flooded her mouth, she looked over in surprise to find the secretary had left the room.  She was alone with Bijan.  Giddy with the knowledge and feeling unfettered by any reproachful glare she may have gotten from the other woman, Cecelia seized the opportunity.  She stared at the detective with a critical eye, her gaze roaming over his appearance:  the short, black hair neatly combed back, the dark, intense color of his eyes, the shadowy hint of a beard accentuating his firm jaw line, the full lower lip. She assessed the broad width of his shoulders, the way the short sleeved shirt he wore highlighted the strength in his arms and hands.  Bijan was quite a handsome man and that thought prompted Cecelia to reevaluate her original impression of him; he was now an extremely good looking hard-assed detective.  She took an enormous bite of her sandwich to stop herself from giggling.  _

_Bijan pushed a bottle of water at Cecelia.  "You look like a chipmunk, Miss Adams," he stated dryly.  _

_"Well, you don't look like a cop," Cecelia retorted, disturbed at how easy the conversation between them had turned casual, easy and almost…intimate, like they had been friends for years._

_"You would never make a good card player," Bijan commented with a chuckle, strong white teeth flashing in a dazzling smile.  He folded down a portion of the sandwich wrapper and debated on where to bite next.  "All one has to do is watch your eyes and face to determine what your thoughts and emotions are."_

_"You know, I never could figure out why I can't play a decent hand of poker," Cecelia smiled.  "Now I know why."  She continued her study of Bijan, watching as he continued chewing his food, slowly, methodically.  Just like his method of interrogation, she was certain he would eventually chip away at her perception of time and events over the past several days, until there was nothing left of her but a quivering mass of nerves.  And hopefully, the truth. That's all she wanted, to know and to understand.  "What else do you see in my eyes?" she had to ask.  _

_"Fear," Bijan finally replied after a few moments of intense study of Cecelia's face.  He suddenly pushed the small, uneaten portion of his sandwich away.   "Anger.  Exhaustion.  From what you have told me so far, you have gone through a traumatic experience, losing your employer and friends like you did.  Then to be rescued by a fanatical group of men who called themselves warriors; I am honestly surprised your psych evaluation came back with no findings."_

_"I never said they were fanatical," Cecelia stated and pushed away her own sandwich, her hunger having suddenly dissipated.  _

_"No, you haven't, but I have to presume they were fanatics with some sort of religious belief, for why else wouldn't they seek immediate medical attention for their wounded?  Why didn't they take their injured men to the nearest town?"_

_ "I don't know…"_

_"Ah, the standard answer," Bijan sighed, exasperated.  He shoved the remaining food into the paper bag and swept it off the table and into the nearby trash can. He stood up, pushing his chair back and ran a hand through his hair, pacing in front of Cecelia.  "When will the answer change?"_

_"When I can remember something," Cecelia replied frustrated.    _

_"How did you get back into __Cairo__?"_

_"I don't remember…"_

_"What happened to the bodies of Dr. Weaver and his team?"_

_"I don't know…" Cecelia felt herself starting to get hysterical and wrapped her arms around her midsection, her stomach tightening from nausea.  _

_Bijan stopped pacing and whirled around, slamming his fists on the table.  He ignored Cecelia's yelp of surprise and leaned down until his face was inches away from hers, ignoring the stab of compassion he felt when he saw the wild, frightened look in her eyes.  "What do you know, Miss Adams?" he asked softly._

_"That one moment you're being nice to me, and the next moment you're yelling at me," she cried out.  "Why are you doing this?"_

_Bijan muttered a curse and pushed himself away from Cecelia, shoving a hand through his hair and taking a deep, calming breath.  "What I am trying to do is keep you safe.  What I need to do is find out the truth, because I suddenly find that the alternatives are unacceptable." _

_"What alternatives?" Cecelia asked fearfully.  _

_Bijan grabbed his chair and sat down at the table, carefully avoiding Cecelia's probing gaze.  He reached for the file folder and as he pushed some papers back inside, he replied, "Charges may be filed against you for murder, although at this point I highly doubt it since there is no evidence.  No fingerprints, no weapon or motive, nothing Forensics would be able to use in building a case against you.   Seeing no other recourse, my superior may petition the courts to have you detained and committed to an asylum for further psychiatric evaluation."_

_"Oh my God," Cecelia whispered, horrified.  Her stomach rolled with nausea as her mind splintered into a thousand frantic thoughts.  "What am I going to do?"_

_"Tell me what happened next," Bijan answered earnestly. "Try and remember all the facts, so that maybe we can piece this puzzle together and hopefully, present a compelling enough case that will eventually have you released from custody."_

_"You still want to know what happened to Ardeth?" Cecelia asked, doubting that a judge or Bijan's superior would want to hear about the fate of a man who supposedly didn't exist.  _

_"Yes, I still want to know," Bijan answered eagerly.  "Any information you can give me will be helpful.  Please continue."_

_Cecelia took a deep breath and nodded her head, gathering her thoughts.   "They…they began treating Ardeth's wounds," she said and began rocking back and forth, lost in the horrible memories…_

_~*~_

Cecelia stood in the entrance of the tent, then pushed herself off to one side and tried to look as inconspicuous as possible.  Wide-eyed with shock and wonder, she watched as the activity within the tent reached an almost fevered pitch.  Although she couldn't understand what was being said, she could tell that terse orders were issued and quickly obeyed.  Injuries were assessed and examined, treated and wrapped with bandages; patients were made as comfortable as possible considering the circumstances but eventually left alone.  Those that were healthier and able to walk gravitated towards the far wall and since her curiosity was aroused, she had to take a step closer to investigate.  What was pulling them over?

Wishing she had her glasses, Cecelia cautiously moved nearer, squinting her eyes to compensate for the dimly lit interior of the tent and moved between two men.  She peeked over one of their shoulders and her eyes widened in shock when she saw who they had gathered around:  Ardeth.  

"Oh God," Cecelia whimpered, wishing she had the strength to look away.  Morbid fascination compelled her to watch; it held her captive and made her become a reluctant witness to the proceedings.  Four men were holding Ardeth down, each anchoring a hand or foot to the bed as another man quickly stripped him of his belts and clothing.  Cecelia had brief glimpses of a muscular, bronzed colored chest, its perfection marred by the ribbon of red that lazily trickled down one side.  Ardeth's dark, raven colored hair was damp from sweat and obstinately clung to his forehead and face, despite being brushed back several times.  A man was bending over Ardeth, his face a complex portrait of gentle concern and anxiousness, and he seemed to be whispering words of comfort to the warrior.  Someone produced a small piece of wood and handed it to the same man, who coaxed Ardeth to take it into his mouth, settling it between his teeth.  Another warrior stepped forward and placed his hands on Ardeth's head, immobilizing it and before Cecelia could ask or even think about what was going to happen next, a glowing white hot knife was given handle first to the man.  

Cecelia heard a sound, unsure of its origin and then realized it was coming from her; she was whimpering.  She clutched at the robes of the warrior in front of her, oblivious to his reaction in finding her standing there.  Instead her eyes were riveted to the man who held the blade above his head for a moment, as if invoking a prayer.  Then with the speed of a striking snake, it descended, like a bolt of lightning from the heavens above.  The man skillfully laid the heated weapon on Ardeth's shoulder wound and the reaction was swift and instinctive.  Ardeth's cry of agony was partially muffled from the wood in his mouth as his body arched and twisted, as if desperately seeking an escape from this new torment being inflicted.  He strained mightily against his unwilling captors, hands clenched into tight fists as his cry reverberated through the night, causing even the most stoic of warriors to flinch from the sound of it.  He weakly struggled; bucking against those that held him and Cecelia watched the man work the blade around the wound.  

"Please hurry, please hurry," she whispered over and over again, her hands clenching and tugging on the warrior's robes.  The smell of burning flesh, Ardeth's hoarse cries of pain, combined with the heat that radiated from those around her made Cecelia's head spin and she felt her stomach roll.  Keeping the queasiness at bay, she watched as Ardeth was carefully picked up and cradled against Nabil who now sat on the edge of the pallet, his head resting on Nabil's shoulder.  Two other warriors came up behind Nabil and held onto Ardeth's hands and the remaining two stood behind the man, apparently as a precaution in case Ardeth tried to break free from his constraints. Cecelia saw it as unnecessary, however, for thankfully Ardeth had passed out.  Another heated blade was given and just as quickly and efficiently as the first, it was pressed against the exit wound on Ardeth's shoulder, searing the injury shut.   

Cecelia took several deep gulps of air, the smells overpowering and yet she stayed for as long as she could, watching the man and warriors as they finished caring for Ardeth.  The wood was removed from his mouth and tossed aside.  His shoulder was wrapped with bandages that stood out in contrast against his dark skin, small blotches of red obscuring their pristine whiteness.  Someone produced a small rag and water pouch and she watched as the man softly wiped Ardeth's face, neck and arms.  He quietly conversed with the warriors that stood around the bed and she had no doubt that perhaps he was reassuring them.   

Cecelia wanted to run to Ardeth's side, to convince herself that his chances of survival had greatly improved but movement was impossible.  Fear that had once paralyzed her body had changed into exhaustion and it was taking its toll; her world tilted precariously.  She still held onto the warrior's robe and she tugged on it hard, in an effort to keep herself from pitching forward into oblivion but it was useless.  She felt herself falling but instead of hitting the hard ground, she was swept up by a pair of strong arms and cradled against a broad chest.  With a ragged little sigh, she curled her arms around the warrior's neck and closed her eyes, leaning her head on his shoulder.  He smelled nice, and felt so warm….

~*~

_A/N:  In all fairness, this little note goes out to my beta, Jennifer Lee, who has been a godsend with her help, idea's, suggestions and of course, correcting my perpetual mistakes of trying to put comma's where they don't belong.  She is the silent inspiration for this story, the one that took my wild idea's and made me think them through, then patiently read what I sent over and over until I was satisfied with the result.  I've only had two betas' in my short career as a fanfic writer and I feel quite lucky to have her as my beta now…heck she's the one that makes me look good. LOL Special thanks to Jennifer for putting aside her own writing to help me with mine…love my beta. ;-) _

_Translations:_

_Waqaf la-taHt - stand down_

_iHna lazim mishwar - we must ride _

_hatta maut – till death_

_ya ra'is – my chief_

_barranidinyi – outer/world_

_mara – woman  Or my attempt at saying Outworlder.  LOL _

_sahil – easy_

_Hamad – Praise God_

_Ana mabsoot – I am fine_

_Hal-waqt -  now_

_Kif – how [Syrian dialect]  _

_Hopefully that covers everything, if I missed something, let me know?  ;-)_

****

**_Ok time for the shout-outs, I love these.  LOL_**

**_Dawn _**_– thanks for the review and this story, as I mentioned, is already going into sequels.  ~yikes~  LOL_

**_Lilybird _**_– so nice to see you on FF and I'm glad the idea of time travel makes sense to you, oh learned one.  ;-)  How does Cecelia get back to __Cairo__?  You'll see and may not like the fairness of it.  Heh heh_

**_Deana – _**_Post more? I did, I did.  LOL And I see you posted more on your story with the namus [different spelling I know, different book LOL]  I promise to leave a review and soon.  ;-)_

****

**_Hi Dee, Kathy and Cindy –_**_ usually when I see new reviewers, I love to drop them an email to thank them personally for reading and reviewing.  But since y'all didn't leave an email address, that's okay…LOL I'll thank you here.  So, thanks!  ;-)  I appreciate the comments and please, keep reading.  _

**_Lula _**_– thanks for the review, sweetie and the poem.  Sheesh, that was priceless and so-oo Nabil  ;-) _

**_Marxbros _**_– glad you liked the intro and the introduction of Cecelia, she is indeed quite an interesting character.  You know me, women characters that are complex and compelling.  LOL And a tasty Ardeth is a nice treat, indeed.  Thanks!_

**_Marcher – _**_Hey there my friend, good to see you, hope life is treating you well.  Glad you like the story so far and I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint.  ;-)_

**_Ruse_****_ – __got your email, my friend and shall answer shortly.  Glad you like this so far and I saw Dr. Hawass on one of the educational channels we have, which of course inspired me to look up his site, which of course led to…LOL If you want the link to his site, let me know.  It's interesting stuff.  ;-)_**

**_Lori – _**_Hi there and welcome, thanks so much for reading.  You need not beg, I've been working on this as much as I can but alas, I will have to stop and go back to Heroes.  However, I hope this chapter satisfies for now and don't worry, there will be more to come.  Laws, yes…more to come.  ;-) _


	3. Part III

Part III 

"What is this?" Nabil asked as he bent down to pull back one of the flaps of the odd-looking canvas bag.  He frowned at the strange word, "Nike" sewn onto its front cover and sifted through the bag's contents, curious at the exposed titles of various books.    

"It was found near the site where the barranidinyi mara's camp was attacked," Kedar Ishaq replied with an exasperated sigh.  

Kedar took off his turban and shoved a hand through his wild mane of hair.  He glanced at the nearby pallet where Ardeth, his best friend and blood brother, moved restlessly from fever.  Raphael was at his side, diligently trying to keep Ardeth's temperature down and soothing the warrior with a softly sung healing chant.  

Kedar's dark gaze swung back to the warriors that stood around him in a small circle, then down to the object of their concern sitting on the floor between them; the contents of the bag that had spilled out.  Kedar and his warriors had arrived in the encampment an hour ago, bringing with them the pouch and the grim news that several of the bandits had managed to escape.  

As a warrior, Kedar needed to understand what had prompted Ardeth to make such a rash decision in rescuing the woman, the consequences of his actions affecting the Medjai in a way no one had thought possible.  As a friend, he needed to confirm that Ardeth was still alive, the erroneous reports that Ardeth's wounds has been mortal goading Kedar to ride hard to be at his friend's side.  

"Why does Raphael delay?  Ardeth needs to be taken back to the city for proper treatment, any fool can see his condition is deteriorating," Kedar snapped.

"What of the woman?" Zaki Hisham asked.  

He knelt down next to Nabil and pulled out a small manuscript that was titled _"Guardian's Spotlight – Interview 1998 with Dr. Zahi Wahass and the Sphinx restoration."  He flipped through a few pages, and then dropped it back into the pouch; his mind troubled by its contents and stood up.  "Let there be no doubt, she is an Outworlder.  Our tribal laws decree that contact with her must be kept to a minimum; in order to keep the harmonious balance between our world and the one beyond, the woman must be returned to her own time.  Who is with her now?"_

"She was taken by Sharif to another tent," Berin replied and crossed his arms over his massive chest.  

He refused to examine any of the books or papers, a scowl settling on his handsome face.  His knowledge of time travel was limited, gained from reading the ancient journals and papyrus kept by the tribal scribes.  The Medjai had known about the existence of the parallel universe for thousands of years but it was only in the past fifty years that his people began to take preventative measures.  The lure of the City of the Dead and the wealth of Egypt was proving to be too difficult to ignore, even for those not of this world.  Ramifications were yet unknown if an Outworlder were to exist in their time and recently a sect had been formed to ensure this would not happen.  

"Has a Traveler been summoned?" he asked.

"Aiwa, as soon as we arrived, I had sent a rider," Kedar replied.  

He looked at each warrior within the group, his natural ability as a leader surfacing.  "We all agree our primary concern is Ardeth," he continued, "post a guard for no one to disturb Sharif and the woman, and then inform Raphael we must leave as soon as possible.  We will separate into groups – one to escort Ardeth back to our city and the other will take the woman back to the rift in time."

"There may be a problem," Dharr said and faltered for a moment when Kedar's intense gaze centered on him.

"Elaborate…this problem," Kedar demanded softly.

"The woman…seems to have…" Dharr struggled to explain and looked to Nabil and Berin for clarification.  "From your reports, you stated Ardeth…"

"It would seem that Ardeth has developed an attraction for the woman, and it is mutual," Nabil explained and Berin nodded his agreement.  "After Ardeth rescued her from the bandits, they were found…" he looked over at Berin for help.

"They kissed, for the love of Allah," Berin stated with a heavy sigh.  "There seems to be an attachment or appeal, one of which not even pain could diminish.  Ardeth called for her until he lost consciousness."

Kedar raised an eyebrow in surprise.  "Indeed," he replied softly, mystified and intrigued at his saHib's behavior.  

"The woman seems to be…determined and courageous," Nabil continued and stood up.  "Unlike any mara we have ever known.  She was in the tent when Raphael sealed Ardeth's wounds and yet she uttered not a sound."

"It matters not how she feels, although it does complicate things," Kedar mused and thoughtfully rubbed his chin.  "She must return to her own time and I think we may need Raphael's assistance in order for her to do so."

"What can the healer do?" Dharr asked in surprise.

"She will have to be drugged," Kedar said and placed his turban back on his head.

As he adjusted the face covering so it rested on his broad shoulder, he stared at each warrior, his voice coming out clear and concise.  "It will be the only way to avoid any unnecessary conflict.  From what you have told me, this would seem the best and easiest solution.  Personally I do not like the thought of using such drastic measures but we all must focus on Ardeth.  I will not lose him due to his rash actions; Allah knows the Elders will reprimand him enough upon our return."

"Who will administer the drug?" Zaki asked, the expression on his face troubled, his golden eyes showing concern at the thought of perhaps having to force the woman to ingest it.

"Is there a warrior that she trusts besides Ardeth?" Kedar asked and a silence fell over the group for a moment. 

Slowly, the warriors turned to the other side of the tent, where Jameel was faithfully sitting by Makin's side.  Perhaps feeling he was the object of their attention, he looked up, surprised to see them staring at him.  

"Aiwa," Nabil said with a sigh.  

~*~

"Cut it out, mom…don't wanna get up."  Cecelia kept her eyes closed as she swatted at whoever was poking at her, sighing with annoyance.  "Need sleep."  

She rolled on to her side, her body curling up for warmth, burrowing into the warmth of the pallet beneath her as images of her dream came back to her.  

No, not a dream but a nightmare; it had to have been.  If she was lucky enough, maybe she could dream about something else, instead of strange-looking men who dressed in black and spoke Arabic.

"I must say, soghairi," a deep, pleasant sounding and most certainly masculine voice spoke up from her side.  "I have been called many things in my life but never a mother."

Cecelia's eyes cracked open and she gasped in surprise; the interior of the tent was flooded with a warm light and an attractive, young warrior bathed in its golden glow sat by the edge of the pallet.  

Suddenly, the night's events flooded her mind.  "Oh God, it wasn't a dream."

"La," Sharif shook his head, reflections of the light dancing in his eyes.  

Cecelia watched as he took off his turban and dropped it into his lap, running a hand through the dark, thick waves of hair that danced across his brow and flowed down to his broad shoulders.  His eyes were the most wonderful color, dark amber and fringed by long lashes.  His face was clean-shaven and had the same tattoos as the others.  He and his quiet, perhaps reserved demeanor intrigued her and she knew it was rude, but she had to stare at him.  A habit of hers cultivated from childhood, she mentally assessed his appearance, dismayed when her thoughts compared him to another who had certainly captured her attention.  

And maybe her heart.  

"Am I your prisoner?"

Cecelia's question brought a slight smile to his face and Sharif watched as she pushed herself up onto her elbows.  "You are not a prisoner but a guest in our camp."

"What's going to happen to Ardeth?  Shouldn't we be leaving for the nearest city so he can be taken to a doctor?" Cecelia sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the pallet.  She would have stood up but Sharif's sudden silence made her pause.  Why was he reluctant to talk to her?   He seemed uncomfortable, his attention focused on the turban that rested in his lap.  

"What's going on?"

At Cecelia's softly asked question, Sharif looked at her, his expression betraying none of the emotions he felt.  Truth be known, in the short time that he had come to know this strange woman from another time, he admired her quiet and defiant courage.  The reports from Commander Nabil and the other warriors about her actions were intriguing and compelling; her bold actions were not those of a Medjai maiden.  Sharif wished he had more time to talk to her, to understand and of course learn about her world.  

Nevertheless, ever mindful of his duties and obligations to his people, instead he replied, "I will find you something to eat; you must be hungry.  Dawn will be here in a few hours and we must break camp…"

"I want to see Ardeth."

Sharif stood up and Cecelia with him.  He looked down at the woman, for an infinite amount of time, and each knew they were assessing the other, determining strengths and weaknesses.  

"That is not possible."

"You said I wasn't a prisoner here," Cecelia reminded Sharif of his words with a poke in his chest, her eyes flashing with indignation.  "If I'm not one, then let me see Ardeth, if not for one last time.  He saved my life and I owe him my thanks."

Sharif actually bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at Cecelia.  At a few inches over six feet in height, he towered over her and yet, she dared to defy him.  

"I will return shortly with some food," was all he could manage to say.

Suddenly the flaps to the tent were thrown open and Kedar ducked inside.  "Ija, ya saHib.  Haunik ktir la bahas."

With a slight bow, Sharif retrieved his turban and took his leave of Cecelia.  As he stepped through the tent's opening, he distinctly heard her mutter, "You may dress and speak differently from the men that I've known but I see you suffer from what seems to be a universal affliction.  You still don't listen to women."

~*~

An hour before the sun would slowly began its eternal ascent into the sky, chasing away the dark mantle of night, Kedar, Nabil and Raphael supervised the process of preparing and transporting the wounded back to the city.  Those that were able to ride were helped to their horses while those that needed aid were carried.  

Solman was a godsend, his strength an unlimited resource, his patience and care in handling the more severely wounded almost reverent.

There was a rare moment of levity when Solman was asked to help Jericho.  The warrior had suffered an injury to his leg.  While the wound hadn't been life threatening, Raphael didn't want the warrior to put any weight on his leg, thus tearing out the carefully sown stitches.  Jericho adamantly objected to what he referred to as the "special treatment" and tried to defer his care to someone else.

Dharr had almost reached his saHib's side when Solman intercepted him and before anyone could react or object, Solman had hoisted Jericho over his shoulder.  He shrugged his massive body once to adjust to the wounded warrior's weight and turned around to face the astonished Kedar and the healers.  
  
"I carry ya ukh," Solman grunted. "he should not walk.

"For the...love of Allah," Jericho muttered from his vantage point, staring down the backside of the giant. "There is no...need for this..."  
  
"I agree," Kedar answered Solman, his dark eyes twinkling with humor.  "Take Jericho to his horse and then I need you to come back in here for Ardeth."

Solman nodded and turned around too fast, earning him a shout from Jericho about making him dizzy.  As he slowly ducked out of the tent, Kedar turned his attention to Mahir.  

"Did you give the potion to Jameel?" he asked.  

"Aiwa.  And I mixed it myself.  It is quite powerful and should render the woman unconscious within a few minutes," Mahir stated.  "Commander al Fa'ud is accompanying Jameel to the tent and then will help Honored Second al Usama get the horses saddled."

Kedar's attention turned back to Ardeth and he watched as Raphael checked the bandages; thankfully the wounds had stopped bleeding.  "When will he be ready to be moved?" he asked.

"Soon," Raphael replied.  He placed a hand on Ardeth's forehead and frowned; the fever was getting higher.  "It would seem that soon I will have my own fight to wage against time and infection," he murmured and looked at Kedar, the worry evident in his dark eyes.  

"You will not stand alone, healer," Kedar said and came over to stand by the pallet.  He leaned down and placed a comforting hand on Ardeth's good shoulder.  "You will not be alone at all."

~*~

"You must eat and drink," Jameel advised Cecelia and handed her a small portion of food and a water pouch.  "The ride back to Cairo will be long."

Cecelia accepted the items and glanced over at Sharif, who stood watchful by the tent flaps, gazing outside.  "I still don't understand why you don't take Ardeth to the nearest town, like Aswan.  Or if there isn't proper medical help there, then take the train up to the next town and see if you can't fly to Cairo."

Jameel looked at Sharif and the warriors exchanged troubled glances.  Unsure how to answer Cecelia, especially since the means of transportation for the Medjai was primarily horses, then cars and the rare, occasional plane ride.  Jameel pretended not to have heard her suggestions, instead he focused on the uncomfortable task at hand, a duty in which Sharif was privy to and neither warrior had a liking for.  

The sound of riders moving around the camp captured Cecelia's attention and when she looked at Sharif, she saw that he had heard the noise as well and had taken a step outside the tent.  She took a long swallow of water from the pouch and looked at Jameel, smiling to herself when she saw he was just as alert as Sharif.  "What's going on?"

"The camp is being dismantled," Jameel replied and watched as Cecelia took a bite of food and a drink from the pouch; the flatbread was the driest piece he could have found.  Silently Jameel urged Cecelia to take another sip, inwardly wincing as she trustingly complied.

"Then they must be moving Ardeth, I have to see him!" Cecelia scrambled to her feet and would have fallen flat on her face if Sharif hadn't moved away from the tent flaps and quickly caught her.  She felt Sharif's firm hand on her elbow to steady her, and saw that he waited until she had recovered equilibrium, and then took a step backwards.  "Please…" she appealed to both men.  

"That is not possible at this moment," Jameel said.  He avoided eye contact with Cecelia, intent on performing the task of gathering up the last few morsels of the bread and water pouch as his personal excuse.  He shook the pouch experimentally, estimating she had nearly consumed its entire contents.

"Qaddaish biTauwil?" Sharif asked in his native tongue, his gaze resting on Cecelia for a moment.  

"What did he say?" Cecelia asked either warrior, and then turned back to Jameel.  "Why isn't it possible?  I just want to say goodbye to the man, for God's sake."  

She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him.  Even as the words passed from her lips, Cecelia knew them to be a lie; she didn't want to say farewell to Ardeth.  God help her, she wanted to go with him to wherever he was being taken and stay by his side.  

"Hi iradi kan na'san qarib," Jameel replied.  He was astonished at Cecelia's behavior and thought by ignoring it, the matter of seeing Ardeth would soon be forgotten.  To his dismay, nothing would deter Cecelia from that subject; she was unmovable as a stone in one of the great pyramids.  

"Now what are you saying?" Cecelia asked Jameel, exasperated.   

"Haidak il-waqt shu baddna na'mil hallaq? Ana Hilif hi rabba Kaman fa'iq wa Zunun ma kull marr daqiqa, ya ukh" Sharif replied with a reluctant grin.  It broke into a smile a moment later when he heard Cecelia's sound of impatience.

"Can you both please stop doing that and talk to me?"

Cecelia's whispered plea made both warriors look at her and she felt her cheeks bloom with embarrassment; being the object of their undivided attention made her feel nervous and yet excited.  

"I just want…," she stopped and swallowed against the emotions that welled up inside of her.  Intense feelings of sorrow if she never got to see Ardeth again battered her heart and at the same time, an odd lethargy began creeping over her body.  "I just want…"

Jameel stood up and reached out a tentative hand to Cecelia.  "What do you want?" he asked gently.

Suddenly, shouts were heard outside and although the vocabulary was in Arabic, Cecelia did pick up one familiar word and it galvanized her into action.  

"I want Ardeth," she answered and darted out of the tent. 

~*~

_Translations:_

_Qaddaish__ biTauwil – How much longer?_

_Hi iradi __kan__ na'san qarib – She will be drowsy soon._

_Haidak__ il-waqt shu baddna na'mil hallaq?__ – Then what do we do for now?_

_Ana Hilif hi rabba Kaman fa'iq wa Zunun ma kull marr daqiqa, ya ukh – I swear she grows more awake and suspicious with each passing moment, my brother_

~*~

There was no indecision for Cecelia this time as she ran through the encampment, her eyes steadily fixed on the sight of Ardeth being carried out of another tent on a stretcher.  She disregarded the shouts of Jameel and Sharif from behind her, dodged around other warriors who tried to stop her; ignored the troubling and mysterious wave of dizziness that crashed over her.  She held her side with one hand, sucked in small, short gasps of air and pushed aside the burning stitch in her ribs.  Her goal only a few feet away, she skidded to an abrupt halt when a warrior with a scar on his face stepped into her path, his arms folded across his broad chest.  

Cecelia's eyes widened with astonishment and she promptly said the first thing that popped into her mind as she stared at him.  "God, you are handsome devil."

Kedar's scowl was enough to intimidate even the greenest of recruits, his size and obvious steely strength quite evident in the lines of his muscular body.  Momentarily pleased and taken aback by her comment, Kedar almost considered standing off to one side, astutely guessing the woman's flight would end at Ardeth' s side.  

A rakish grin curved up one corner of his mouth.  "And you appear to be quite stubborn since your disobeying my orders."

Cecelia gasped.  "You're the one that doesn't want me to see Ardeth?"

Kedar nodded his head.  "He is my primary concern, not one mere slip of a troublesome woman."  He almost laughed out loud when he saw the fires of annoyance burn brightly in her eyes.

"Troublesome woman?" Cecelia echoed incredulously.  

She had a sarcastic retort ready to fire back at the warrior but instead wisely held her tongue when she realized a crowd of warriors had gathered around them.  Jameel and Sharif ran up to Kedar's side and Cecelia felt a pang of remorse over the guilty looks on their faces.  

"Samah ana, Kedar," Jameel said, sounding out of breath.  "Hiye a'mal mufaj iHna." 

"Laish hi ma mush nayim?" Kedar asked Jameel and Sharif, his tone deceptively calm as he stared expectantly at Cecelia.  

"Ma byimkinni jawab inni," Jameel replied, blushing slightly in embarrassment when he saw the black look of anger on Kedar's face.  

"Belki il sharbat qudra shRal Rair fa'inn nisa," Nabil offered.  He was standing next to Cecelia and hid his smile when he heard her gasp of outrage.  Watching her was becoming a delightful habit, and guessing from the reactions of the others, they liked it as well; there was no deception with this woman.  

"Oh my Gawd…all of you are doing it again," Cecelia groaned.  "Can someone please talk in English here because I certainly don't habla Arabic."

"Shu bismillah amal 'habla' razil?" Dharr asked no one in particular. 

"Um, hello?" Cecelia waved to Kedar, then Jameel and the others.  "I didn't realize my intentions of seeing Ardeth one last time would produce a spontaneous convention of black robes and…" she blinked in surprise when another bout of dizziness swept through her.  She put a hand to her head, barely able to finish her sentence, "…and incomprehensible discussion."

"The answer is still…" Kedar started to reply but stopped when Sharif stepped forward.

"I will take you to him," Sharif replied to Cecelia.  He glanced over at Kedar and Nabil, hoping for their approval of his actions and held his breath, waiting for their decision.

Cecelia smiled at Sharif, a slow, lazy grin that curled her mouth up into an almost feline smile of satisfaction. Suddenly she felt goofy, drunk, like she had just consumed an entire bottle of wine and she loved the warmth that was slowly seeping throughout her body. It felt like she was being cradled in a strong pair of arms.  "Schanks," she murmured and giggled at how she slurred that word.

"Mafi Darar fi jayiz hiye la qal masa s-salaama, ya ukh," Nabil spoke quietly to Kedar.  "Ata hiye hada wa Kaman muhimm, ata hada la Ardeth; wa'in nayim, huwa qalb azi la simi hada.  Wa hu iradi fi raHa."

"Ana iradi ittikal intu qaDi fauq hada, ya saHib," Kedar replied to Nabil, and then turned to Sharif, nodding once.  "Wa Salla la Allah inna ittnain a 'mil-li il Haqq Hukm."

~*~

_Translations:_

_Samah__ ana, Hiye a'mal mufaj iHna – Forgive me, her actions surprised us_

_Laish__ hi ma mush nayim – Why is she not unconscious?_

_Ma byimkinni jawab inni – I cannot answer that_

_Belki__ il sharbat qudra shRal Rair fa'inn nisa – Perhaps the drink's power works differently for woman_

_Shu__ bismillah amal 'habla' razil – What in the name of Allah does 'habla' mean?_

_Mafi__ Darar fi jayiz hiye la qal masa s-salaama – There is no harm in letting her say goodbye_

_Ata hiye hada wa Kaman muhimm, ata hada la Ardeth; wa'in nayim, huwa qalb azi la simi hada.  Wa hu iradi fi raHa – There is no harm in allowing her to say goodbye.  Give her this and more importantly, give this to Ardeth; although unconscious, his heart will hear her goodbye.  And he will be at ease.  _

_Ana iradi ittikal intu qaDi fauq hada – I will trust your judgment on this_

_Wa__ Salla la Allah inna ittnain a 'mil-li il Haqq Hukm – And pray to Allah that we have both made the right decision_

_~*~_

Thanks to the steady guidance provided by Sharif, Cecelia finally made it over to Ardeth's side and knelt down by the stretcher, her gaze roaming over his features.  Waves of pain would occasionally wash over his face, marring his handsome profile and Cecelia reached out, tenderly stroking a few wisps of hair that obstinately clung to his damp brow.  She peeked down at his shoulder wound, peeling back the edge of the blanket that had been placed over him, holding her breath and grimacing when she saw the blood on the bandage.  

"You saved my life at the risk of your own," Cecelia whispered to him and bent down next to the side of his face, close to his ear.  "I have never seen anything like you; you're brave, not to mention handsome…so different and yet I feel like I should know you.  How can I just say 'thank you' to you when I want to say more?  Ask for more?"

"Ya sitti," Sharif spoke up from behind Cecelia.  "It is time to go."

Cecelia nodded at the warrior and then turned back to Ardeth, bending low and placing a kiss on his warm cheek.  "Would it be wrong for me to wish I could go with you?" She felt an odd feeling of affection flood her heart and she laid her head next to Ardeth's, suddenly feeling very tired.   "Would it be…so bad to want to…"

Sharif caught Cecelia just as she started to slump towards the ground and swept her up into his arms.  Solman had been standing vigilant over Ardeth ever since he had been brought outside and Sharif knew he had heard the entire one-sided conversation.  Both warriors stared at the woman sleeping so contentedly in Sharif's embrace and neither knew what to say at the moment.  He stared down at her face, noticing for the first time how long and dark her lashes looked, curved against her pale cheeks; how smooth and porcelain-like her skin seemed, the shiny curtain of her hair spilling over Sharif's forearm and tumbling to the ground like a silken banner.  

"Ardeth is her heart," Solman stated with his child-like simplicity and youthful wisdom.  

Sharif almost smiled over Solman's unerring observation; his sahib always had a knack for stating the truth in matters, even if it was unwanted or unsolicited.  

A shout from the sentry announcing the arrival of the Traveler into the camp saved Sharif from a response but deep in his heart, he agreed with Solman.  

And knew Cecelia's return to her own world would affect the Medjai for quite some time to come.  

~*~

_A/N – Ah yes, I disappear from FF for a few weeks and come back with a scene that's half written in Arabic!  LOL Sorry about that but my intentions were to make the reader as confused and frustrated as Cecelia when the warriors were talking about her and she couldn't understand.  I've put the scene's translations at the end of each scene and hope that doesn't interrupt things too much for you, dear reader and hopefully reviewer.  And please bear with my Arabic?  Here are some more translations and I hope I didn't miss any…*giggle*_

_Ija__, ya sahib.__  Haunik ktir la bahas – Come, my friend. There's much to discuss_

_sahib__ – friend_

_soghairi__ – little one_

_ya__ sitti – my lady_

**_Time for the shout out's and thank_****_ you to all of you who still remember my characters and story, it is greatly appreciated.  For those of you who lurk, I hope I entertained you for a wee bit.  For those of you who review, glad to see my latest part made you react.  LOL_**

**_I'm happy to say I'm on a roll writing and a much needed update for Heroes will be coming soon.  Also, big thanks to Ladybug for allowing me to play with her boys, Kedar and Zaki, to Deana for giving it the once over via a chat, and Tori.  _****_J_****__**

**_Dawn369 – _**_As always thanks for asking, but keep wondering about poor Ardeth…heh heh_

**_Dead-Girls-Watch – _**_Thanks for reading, and I hope you like this chapter as well_

**_Ladybug – _**_Shukran ya hulu sahib for all your help, in more ways than one.__  You've helped me keep my sanity and of course, by letting me play with Kedar and Zaki…*puurrr*  What else can a girl ask for?  LOL_

**_Kathy – _**_Hopefully this is the Kathy that was kind enough to email me a few weeks ago, wondering about an update.  Thank you ever so much for thinking of this story and hopefully, you've liked this chapter._

**_Lori – _**_Sorry this took so long and I hope you enjoy it, wanting to read more.  There are more twists coming, oh trust me on that one…LOL_

**_Marxbros_****_ – _**_Haven't 'seen' you around my friend, but then again, I've been scarce myself due to RL issues.  Glad you like Bijan but I wonder…will you still like him in the end?  *evil grin*_

**_Patty – _**_My faithful reviewer, dance in the aisles again, I'm back and I's been busy writing!  LOL_

**_Ruse – _**_glad to be a service for Dr. Hawass' site and of course, I had to mention one of his articles in the opening scene for this part…hee hee  _

**_Marcher – _**_Thanks for the review, glad you liked this so far…gads, I need to read your excellent fic and soon, promise!  *smiles*_

**_Eternal Jade Flame – _**_Welcome and as always, thanks for not only reading but reviewing. I appreciate the feedback and hope I haven't lost your interest with the lapse in how often I update.  _


	4. Part IV

Part IV 

"What caused it to open in the first place?" Dharr asked.    

"I am not sure," Zayn, the Traveler, stated uneasily.  He saw the looks of disbelief on the warrior's faces and hurriedly tried to make amends; to re-establish their confidence in his abilities to travel between the worlds. Perhaps mentioning this was only his second journey had been a mistake.  And it didn't help matters when Commander Ishaq asked if there was a time limit until the portal between the worlds was sealed shut again.

Zayn's reply had been less than educated.  "From what I have been taught, the rift between the two worlds will remain open until balance is achieved once again; the Outworlder's presence here is causing a tear in the fabric of time.  Once she has been restored to her universe, the gap should then seal shut."

"What happens if it does not?" Kedar asked, feeling his head begin to pound from the mounting tension of the situation.  ****

"Again, I am not certain," the Traveler sighed and then suggested the warriors mount up, ignoring the muttered curse of exasperation from Commander Ishaq.  Zayn knew his answers were less than comforting.  But worrying about his credibility with the warriors was not his main concern at the moment; re-establishing the stability between the worlds was.  "We could debate the theories that were written by our tribal Elders several years ago, suggesting that time between Abydos, Dendera and the West Bank of Luxor continually shifts or adjusts.  But I believe a discussion such as that is best kept for later.  Time, as it may be, is of the essence and I need to return the barranidinyi mara before dawn."

"Then we have reached an understanding on one thing, Traveler," Kedar growled as he mounted his horse, gathering the reins in his hands.  "When you return, there will be indeed a discussion between the Elders, you and I."

"Berin, Zaki, and Jameel are ready to leave, ya sahib," Nabil informed Kedar as he mounted his own horse.  "Although I am uncertain as to why he volunteered for the duty.  Sharif is caring for the woman."

"Then I shall take my leave of you," Zayn replied and gave a brief nod to all the warriors as well as the traditional sign of departure; hand resting over his heart then raising up in a salute.  "May Allah protect you all and watch over you."

Kedar and Nabil returned the Traveler's farewell and Kedar glanced over at the warriors who were tending to Ardeth's stretcher; Dharr and Solman acting as both guide and bearers.  The rest of the warriors had already begun their journey and any evidence of the camp that had once been was erased.

"I know this unsettles you," Nabil spoke up from Kedar's side, the expression on his face troubled, his gray eyes clouded with worry.  "I will admit, my own knowledge of time travel is limited at best, but we must have faith in the Traveler.  We must believe that Allah in His infinite wisdom will steady the scales once again, leaving us free to concentrate on Ardeth's care.  He will need our friendship in the days to come. I dare not think of what Lady Dareejah will do when she learns of the events from this night."

Kedar inwardly flinched at the mention of the power-hungry woman who was related to Ardeth through marriage; having wedded into the Bay family three years ago.  The untimely death of Ardeth's Uncle Arshad last year was still shrouded in mystery and suspicions ran deep among the warrior sect that Dareejah herself had something to do with it.

"She will do what comes natural to a predator like herself," Kedar replied with a heavy sigh and kicked his horse into a trot; Nabil followed alongside of him.  "Like a jackal that has caught the scent of blood, she will attack, trying to usurp Ardeth's position as Chieftain while he recovers."

"No doubt Counselor Thias will be offering his assistance," Nabil stated as he rode alongside of Kedar.  "His continuing opposition to the Bay family's rule is well-known among our people.  These will be tiring days ahead of us, ya sahib."

"Of that I have no doubt," Kedar agreed with a heavy sigh.  

~*~

Dareejah Rishik Bay swept into the parlor situated outside her chambers with the air of a Queen, her body bearing a quiet dignity and grace.

The years had been kind to Dareejah; her face still held the dewy promise of youth, her figure slim and supple, and her long black hair almost free from the signs of advancing age except for a few strands of silver that graced her temples.  She was perpetually poised and elegant, every gesture, thought or action carefully orchestrated to exude confidence and control.

The limits of both traits were sorely being tested at this very moment, however, when she realized it was Counselor Thias who was the reason for her rest being disturbed. Her lips flattened into a thin line, a sign of her annoyance.    

"Indeed your desire to see me must be of great importance, my dear counselor; the hour is late and yet you demand an audience.  Pray tell me what news you bring. Surely you would not dare disturb my respite with menial matters?  Enlighten me as to why you sniff like a dog around the doorway to my chambers; surely you could find someone else this evening that could have relieved the perpetual ache between your legs?" Dareejah's smile curved her lush red lips up at the corners yet it never reached her eyes; they were cold, lifeless, and as fathomless as a dark pit.  She reached out one hand, allowing Thias to place a compulsory kiss on it. 

"A thousand pardons for the intrusion, my lady, but the news I bring is best heard behind closed doors and away from the prejudiced eyes and ears of Elders and Commanders," Thias purred and gave a slight bow over her hand, a sarcastic smile on his lips.

Time had been generous to the counselor as well; although his hair was liberally sprinkled with gray, his mind was still as keen and sharp as a blade.  The lines of his body bore silent testament to the once coveted strength of his youth and he always wore clothes that accentuated his masculine build.  Vain, pompous and ambitious, Thias' handsome demeanor paled in comparison.  Ever the opportunist for further his own political career, he had made an uneasy, turbulent alliance with Lady Dareejah in the hopes of one day, becoming chieftain over the twelve tribes of the Medjai.   Willing to do anything to further his own interests, Thias would gladly sell his body if he knew it would further his own ambitions.  

Rising to the occasion and letting his lust drive his actions, his eyes raked over Dareejah's body in a lewd appraisal, the bedclothes she wore barely concealing her lush, womanly curves.  "Considering how late it is, your razor-sharp tongue still manages to draw blood but I shall gladly suffer the injuries, if only to watch the emotions play across your lovely face once I tell you of my news."

Dareejah pulled her hand free and waved off Thias' words with a wave, walking over to a small chair positioned by a high-arched window that overlooked the gardens.  She gazed out at the horizon and estimated dawn's approach within the hour.  "My tongue will not be the only weapon that draws blood before this evening expires. Tell me your news and be quick about it or I shall summon my guards."

"Your illustrious nephew Ardeth returns from the night's hunt, performing his eternal obligation as a guardian of the desert…" Thias began and walked over to where Dareejah was standing.  

"He is not of my blood," Dareejah snapped.

Thias shrugged and continued his narration.  "It is said the warriors will forever honor their oaths with blade, blood and bone; tonight Ardeth almost honored his sacred vow with his life."  He leaned closer and whispered conspiratorially in Dareejah's ear.  "It is rumored our champion rescued an Outworlder… even as we speak, I know for certain a Traveler was summoned.  Tell me, was it not you who once wished to see this other world that you have read about in dusty old books and manuscripts?"

"It is forbidden among our people to seek out the Guardian sect and persuade a Traveler to take us to the other world," Dareejah pouted prettily and watched Thias with narrowed eyes.      

Thias started walking around Dareejah, whispering and weaving a dark spell that invoked the shared unquenchable thirst for power, the hunger to always have more.  "Tell me, my beautiful dark one, did you not wish to take the wealth of Egypt from this time and escape to the other realm, where you could live the life of power that you have been denied?"

"And who would help me achieve this lofty goal?" Dareejah asked, her eyes focused on the distant horizon. In her mind's eye, she saw the span of her remaining years stretched out before her like a yawning chasm, filled with a heart-wrenching emptiness and discontent.

Thias sensed victory and smiled, positioning himself behind Dareejah, his hands easily pushing aside the fabric of her outer garments until her luscious, well-rounded bottom was almost bare for the plundering.  "You know I have always loved you," he chanted and rubbed himself against her, the hard proof of his arousal fitting tightly against her body.  "You and I were always so good together; as one, think of what we can accomplish."

Dareejah closed her eyes and leaned against the window ledge, pushing her body rhythmically against Thias; a small moan of pleasure slid past her lips and she knew he would read it as a sign of encouragement.  "Tell me more," she panted, rocking her hips against him as she felt the barriers of clothing being pushed aside.  

Thias continued to elaborate about his evil plans to Dareejah and like two serpents that were performing the rituals of mating; quickly he freed his engorged manhood and roughly joined their bodies.  Captured and entwined, moans of pleasure melded into hisses of pain.  Deliberately Thias held Dareejah on the precipice of completion, almost driving her mad, but intent on making them both recite an unholy traitorous pledge to one another.  Nothing short of death would prohibit them from seeing their wicked plans come to fruition.  And when Dareejah breathlessly gave her acceptance and cooperation, Thias plunged them both over the edge with a shout of victory.  

While his manhood was still firmly embedded into Dareejah's receptive body, the pretense of sanity returned, and with it the guard's announcement from outside the parlor's closed door.  Ardeth and his men had returned to the city.

"Time to play the loving and concerned aunt," Dareejah announced with a feral smile.

~*~

Berin adjusted his face covering and did his best to navigate his way through the expected sand storm that had enveloped the small party.  He squinted through the swirling gritty sand and communicated through hand signals to Zaki and Jameel; he and Zaki would stand guard as Sharif transferred Cecelia to Zayn.   Although the trip had progressed without mishap, Berin's instincts were warning him something was amiss.  Wary, he guided his horse over to Zaki's side, his hand resting on the hilt of his scimitar.

Zaki gestured to Berin asking if all was well as they watched Zayn take Cecelia and protect her from the driving sand with his body; Sharif had also thoughtfully covered her with a spare robe.  Berin nodded and both warriors returned the farewell salute from Zayn as the Traveler turned his horse into what seemed to be the thickest part of the storm.  Sharif was almost mounted again when unexpectedly, over the driving wind, they heard a noise that sounded like battle cries.  Berin watched in disbelief as the last of the bandits surged over a small dune, and instantly he answered with a shout of his own.  He rallied Zaki and Jameel to his side as he pulled his scimitar from its sheath and charged into battle.  His dark gaze focused on Zayn and Cecelia, who were still vulnerable to an attack, Berin appealed to Allah to grant them a swift victory.

Sharif pulled out his scimitar and blocked a blow from an attacking bandit in one fluid motion but his attention was divided; a few of the men had pursued Zayn and Cecelia.  He doubled his efforts and quickly dispatched his enemy, a vicious fight that ended as the man slumped to the ground, his life's blood oozing from a stomach wound.  Sharif pulled his weapon free and spun around to watch another bandit pull the struggling Zayn from his horse as Cecelia's body slid to the ground.  Sharif shouted for help and raced over to the Traveler.    

Jameel avoided the blow that would have taken his head off and parried with a jab to the bandit's ribs.  His adversary barely deflected it and staggered to one side, off balance, giving Jameel enough time to extract the dagger from his boot.  He had heard Sharif's cry for help and spared a quick glance towards his friend; the warrior was now fighting another bandit.

Making sure Zayn was out of the way before his own enemy could attack him again; Jameel threw the dagger with deadly accuracy.  The man dropped to his knees, trying in vain to reach the knife imbedded in his back before falling over on to his side.  He watched dispassionately as nature quickly started to cover the body with a granular shroud of death.  

Before he could go help the Traveler, a blinding pain exploded in the back of Jameel's head and he fell to his knees.  Reacting on instinct, he rolled to his feet as three more bandits simultaneously attacked, rushing him from all sides.  Suddenly, Jameel was fighting for his life.  

Avoiding the combatants as best he could, Zayn grabbed the Outworlder under the arms and slowly dragged her towards the portal.  He could feel the draw come from the other world, as strong as the currents of the Nile and he let it drag him along, working as a counter-pull against the sandstorm's wind.  Quickly, he pushed Cecelia through the hole in time and felt her body dissolve into a fine mist, and then turned to back the horses.  Unaware of danger that was approaching him from a blind side, Zayn lunged after the lead reins trailing in the sand.  

Meanwhile, Berin slashed at the bandit, ducked under the return thrust and smashed his fist into the man's face.  The bandit staggered back, blood pouring from what was probably a broken nose and then he stared at Berin with hatred burning bright in his eyes.  "Now you will die, Medjai," the man screamed and charged, the point of his blade aimed for the center of Berin's chest.  Berin waited until the bandit was almost on top of him before he twisted his body, his size not a hindrance; he moved with a speed and agility of a dancer.  The blade skimmed along Berin's side but the wound was necessary, enabling him to plunge his dagger into the man's back.  The momentum of the bandit's attack carried him a few feet before he came to an awkward halt and slowly turned around to stare at Berin in shock.

"Not today," Berin growled and watched as the lifeless body fell to the ground.

"Berin!"  Somehow Jameel's cry was heard over the wind, which had lessened in severity, and Berin spun around.  He took a few steps forward but Zaki ran over to his side and pointed back towards the Traveler, his words making Berin's blood run cold.  "I have Jameel, help Sharif!"

A groan of denial slid past Berin's clenched teeth as he watched the horrible tableau unfold before him.  Zayn was huddled on the ground, one hand holding the bloody side of his head but it was Sharif's eminent danger that flooded Berin's body with a temporary paralysis.  Two bandits were attacking Sharif at once, the force of their assault propelling him away from the Traveler and into the open time rift.  The woman was no where to be seen.

An experienced warrior would have been able to hold his own against two opponents and while Sharif's skill level was far superior, the enemy had strength on their side.  Sharif was beginning to tire.  A bandit charged most likely thinking to capitalize on Berin's distraction but instead he narrowly missed the warrior's midsection; the reward for his efforts was a sliced tendon on the back of his knee, effectively crippling him.  Berin came out of his crouch and shoved the wounded man aside, advancing towards Sharif; his heart pounding like a drum in his chest.  Sharif had defeated the first bandit and was struggling to defeat the other but his fatigue hindered his judgment.  Berin's roar of fury rolled over the desert when he saw Sharif's guard slip and the bandit immediately seized the opportunity.  His sword slashed Sharif's midsection once and then again on a back swing, drawing deep red gashes that sprayed red mist into the wind, mixing with the swirling dust of the earth.  Berin heard Sharif's cry of pain, inwardly cringing at the agony laced through it and he started to run, only to be tackled from the side by another foe.

Berin wrestled with his new opponent, his anger and grief over Sharif lending him almost super-human strength.  The bandit looked up into the dark glittering eyes of the Medjai and uttered a pray for salvation from the devil himself.  Berin made sure those last words became his death prayer.  

The sandstorm was dissipating, visibility becoming clearer and Zayn groaned as he struggled to his feet.  Ignoring the pain from his aching head, the Traveler stood up and decided to help Sharif the only way he knew how.  He dove for the horse's reins, caught them and vaulted into one of the saddles with a triumphant shout.  With two horses in tow, Zayn kicked his mount into a gallop and rode straight for Sharif, who was weakly defending himself and being pushed towards the portal.  Hoping his trick would work, Zayn called out, "Sharif!" and leaned over one side of the saddle, his arm stretched out.  A second later, Zayn grabbed Sharif's arm and half carried, half dragged the warrior to the rift in time; the horse leaping through the charged air.  

While Zayn frantically prayed his grip on Sharif's arm would hold… he felt his body dissolve into a mist.

~*~

Where there was once a battle, the sounds of men dying merged with the howling winds of a sandstorm.  Now there was silence.  The fiery chariot of the sun streaked across the blue heavens as the infancy of morning melted into the maturity of golden afternoon.  Bodies lay strewn about the sand, as if a careless child had left their playthings and wandered off to seek more exciting adventures.  Overhead in the cloudless perfection of the desert sky, a bird pin-wheeled effortlessly on the wind's playful currents, waiting to see if the dead were truly dead.

Golden eyes fringed by long thick lashes slowly fluttered open and a groan of pain escaped through parched lips.  A large hand came up and tenderly touched the bloody cut on his forehead; tiny ribbons of blood streamed over his leather headband, down the side of his face and blended in with his long curly hair and beard.  Zaki blinked several times from the brightness of the sky and immediately rolled to his side, a dry cough making his battle-weary body jerk from the exertion. 

He was alive… by some miracle and by the grace of Allah.

Zaki had survived the bandit's final attack and he pushed himself to his knees.  A quick mental assessment determined his wounds to be superficial, although his head pounded unmercifully.  Zaki lifted his gaze to search for his fellow warriors.  Two black robed bodies were spotted among the fallen and as Zaki stumbled over to one, the other slowly rolled onto its back.  

"Berin?" Zaki asked and knelt down by the warrior's side.  He quickly checked the sub-commander for any wounds and finding only a few minor ones, helped him up to a sitting position.  "Are you all right?"

"Sharif…" Berin croaked.  He wiped the grit from his face with one red tinted hand, asking, "Where is Sharif?"

Zaki saw Jameel roll over to his side and eventually push himself up onto his knees.  With one warrior accounted for, Zaki looked at the horses.  He was able to identify the three Medjai mounts by the brand on the hindquarters and by the shopands and edras.**1** But where was the fourth?  "I do not know," Zaki replied.

Berin ignored the protests from his aching body and pressed a hand to his bloody side.  With Zaki's help, he climbed to his feet, looking around the field of battle in disbelief. Jameel came limping over to them and together, the three warriors started to slowly piece together what had happened in the last remaining moments of the fight.

Jameel presented a theory and although originally regarded as unbelievable, they realized the evidence on hand was far too compelling to ignore.  Partially obscured by the windblown sand, tracks were followed, indentations in the ground were analyzed and steps retraced.  Coupled with vague eyewitness accounts, at first the warriors discredited Jameel's suggestion that Sharif had traveled forward in time until the sound of maniacal laughter caught their attention.

"You three look like lost, old women," taunted the bandit who Berin had crippled earlier in the fight.  He was curled up on one side, holding his wounded leg and glaring at the warriors with a mixture of madness and amusement.

"Behold the mighty Medjai befuddled with the most obvious of facts.  Your friend disappeared through the hole in time, taken by the other on horseback!"  

~*~

**1 **-  **_Arabic_****_, Horse Accessories consist of:_**

_1- Bridle: Bits of Nickel + the thing that goes on the horses head + the Halter.__   
2- Shopand: goes on the horses chest.   
3- Lawalih: goes down the sides of the horse.   
4- Edra: on the horses head   
5- Egal: on the horses neck   
6- Rashmeh: Made of Iron, plated with copper, goes on the horses nose.   
7- Megwad: Leads. _

_The site is Arabisca.tripod.com but I couldn't get the link to show up on FF.  [If your curious…LOL]_

_A/N – It is indeed a treat for me to update SIT so quickly but thanks to my beta, I was able to upload this today.  Rock on Tori!  LOL  Hopefully the scene with Dareejah and Thias didn't unsettle anyone with its adult contents but it's all happening for a reason…*evil grin*  Ardeth will soon re-appear but meanwhile, I hope my characters keep you entertained and intrigued.  _

_Thank you thank you thank you for the reviews and for those that lurk, you could drop a review to let me know how I'm doing.  *giggle*  Now…_

**_On to the shout-outs…LOL_**

**_TheDreamyOne – _**_Thanks for reading and as I've said earlier, I hope I've tweaked your curiosity enough to keep reading  ;-) _

**_Kathy – _**_Ask and ye shall receive…another update.  LOL Thanks for reading!_

**_Ladybug – _**_You are too kind and I should be thanking you, as I've said, playing with Kedar and Zaki has been delightful.  Nothing like a mindful of warriors to write about that gets the blood pumping…LOL_

**_Lori – _**_Then I guess I didn't go overboard with the Arabic and the translations were in the right spots. Thanks for letting me know.  __J___

**_Serena1221 – _**_Okay, time to confess.  Writing the English and translating it into Arabic was the hardest part!  LOL I had both of my books wedged open and took three hours one day to come up with some fairly decent dialogue.  Thanks for reading!_

**_Dawn369 – _**_Laws yes, there's more to come but for now, I have to set up the other parts of this story.  How will Ardeth react when he finds out Cecelia is gone?  A good question and all I can say is, remember who or what Cecelia is…and what her presence in Ardeth's time could possibly do.  Will they be reunited?  Heh heh…*eg*_

**_Deana – _**_Thanks for reading __Dee__ and do some more dancing, I posted more.  LOL Always a treat to see your review.  __J___

**_Patty – _**_Okay, so everyone in favor of giving Ardeth to Patty, raise their hands?  LOL I am extremely flattered that I've created a character that's compelling and realistic enough for you to enjoy reading about.  As the story progresses, I think we'll see Cecelia growing in terms of internal strength.  And just how far she would go to get back to Ardeth…_

**_Marcher – _**_I had to write a few "For the love of Allah's" in there and I'm glad it injected some humor into a few scenes.  I could just hear Berin or __Jericho__ muttering those statements in their scenes and it seemed to fit.  If you've noticed, in this fanfic, I've given a different spin on Ardeth, ie he is more to the Medjai than just their Chieftain, compared to "Heroes" where I have him as one of the commanders.  It just seems to fit with this, and after all, what gal from the 21st century wouldn't want to be rescued by a handsome, dashing desert warrior from the past who is the leader of a secret civilization?  _

**_Ruse_****_ – __Ai!  No Gollum, my precioussssss, please?  LOL Thank you for the kind words and I appreciate the feedback.  Knowing how my originals as well as my Medjai come across give inspiration to continue with a few other story idea's that are simmering in my head.  Thanks for reading and hopefully, we'll see some more updates from you on your fab fanfic?  Yes?  LOL _**

**_Wildcardgal – _**_Ask and ye shall receive, thanks for reading and the review.  Hopefully, you've had a chance to check out __Ruse__'s fanfic, that we discussed in the chat last night?  Happy reading!  _


	5. Part V

_Part V_

****

**_June 1999_**

**_Cairo_****_ Police Station_**

**_Interrogation Room C_**

**_4pm_****__**

****

_"So… it all comes down to this?" Cecelia asked, staring at the paper bearing her confession; unshed tears blurring it into a mass of jumbled words.  _

_She looked up at Bijan, searching for any signs of reassurance, affirmation…confidence that he believed this was the best course of action.  "I told you the truth about everything.  Yet you ask me to sign a piece of paper that only states half of what occurred.  I just don't understand."  _

_Bijan leaned over Cecelia's shoulder, offering her a pen and pointing out the part that needed her signature.  Standing behind her…it was easier this way, enabling him to avoid seeing the look of betrayal and sorrow on her face.  There were aspects of his career as a detective that Bijan had come to hate; coercing a partial admission of facts and disregarding everything else about her story would plague him for a long time to come.  _

_"Omitting certain details from your experience will make it easier for the magistrate to overlook the misdemeanor charge of disturbing the peace.  Your ordeal would be classified as an 'unfortunate incident' that happened in the desert."_

_"That's what we're calling the murder of Scott and his friends?" Cecelia asked incredulously.  "Everything that I've told you has been conveniently reduced to a phrase? My friends and I were attacked for God's sake…"_

_"An attack that we both agreed could have been initiated by a renegade faction of nomads.  The Bedouin rescued you, not the Medjai.  They roam the deserts, have no political power and very often their tribal dress dictates the use of dark blue or black facial tattoos," Bijan continued as he walked around the table.  Still keeping his gaze averted, he sat down in his chair and stuffed a few papers back into the manila folder.  "A group of their men found you, took care of you and brought you back to __Cairo__.  Not wishing to involve themselves with the authorities, they left you in the clinic and disappeared back into the desert."    _

_"The Medjai exist," Cecelia stated stubbornly.  "They are all real and…"_

_"Cecelia," Bijan whispered her name and saw her eyes widen with surprise.  He got up and knelt down by her side, gently taking her hand and making it hover over the line for her signature.  "There is no __Ardeth__ _Bay___, no warriors, nothing except the kindness of the Bedouin that helped you escape a fate worse than death. Your signature on this statement will confirm everything that you told me and more importantly, keep you from being sent to an asylum.  Unless you desire to be detained longer than necessary for another psychiatric evaluation?"_

_"No," Cecelia whispered.  Her heart felt heavy in her chest and the tears that had gathered in her eyes finally rolled down her face; she felt defeated.  Tired.  The immeasurable sorrow that came with the realization that Ardeth didn't exist made her want to scream, howl like a wounded animal.  Yet somehow, she kept her composure.  Once she was home, safely back in the States and beginning the slow process of rebuilding her life, she would crawl into bed and have a good cry._

_"There is no such thing as Medjai, Miss Adams," Bijan gently reminded her.  _

_When he saw the slow nod of her head, he reached up and tenderly touched one cheek, wiping away a tear with his fingertip. They stared at one another for a moment.  Then Bijan decided to divulge some information, in the hopes it would effectively change the subject and earn Cecelia's complete cooperation.  _

_ "I received a message about an hour ago that your friends have been to the police station looking for you.  Apparently, you were supposed to meet them at the airport yesterday for a trip to __Greece__, but when you didn't appear, they came looking for you.  They must be good friends."_

_Cecelia wiped her face and gave Bijan a wobbly smile.  "They are the best.  We…we'd planned on visiting __Greece__ for a two week vacation after I had finished my assignment with Dr. Weaver."_

_"You do want to see them again, don't you?" he asked, cleverly manipulating Cecelia into finally making a decision.  "You want to go back to your hotel room, take a nice warm bath and change out of those dirty clothes, yes?"_

_Cecelia nodded her head and tried not to cry even harder. _

_"Then sign the statement…and you can be released within the hour," Bijan cajoled and flashed a disarming smile.  "Your friends will be most likely returning and they can take you out, just in time for dinner."_

_Cecelia gripped the pen with her hand, determined that her signature come out clear and legible; not scribbled like it was written by a child.  Or someone whose heart was breaking.  Her full concentration on writing, Cecelia barely heard the cell phone ring and was only vaguely aware that Bijan got up and stood away from the table._

_"I told you never to call me here," Bijan spoke into his cell phone and walked out of the room, the door only swinging partially closed behind him.   _

_The first part of her name looking fairly decent, Cecelia continued writing with a child-like tenacity, unconsciously listening to what the detective was saying outside in the hall.  _

_"What do you mean, 'he is gone'?" _

_She heard Bijan's demanding question as she wrote an "A…" _

_"Who was watching him?" _

_Cecelia wrote, "d…"_

_She wrote the second "a…" and heard Bijan's next question that sounded a little faint, like he was standing a good distance away.  Maybe he was pacing.  "How long has it been since you last checked?"_

_She wrote, "m…" and waited in silence, the pen poised in the air.  She heard a heavy sigh, more paced footsteps and Bijan's voice sounded closer. "Why did you leave him alone?! Ir-Rahman Allah, do you realize what this means?"_

_With a flourish, Cecelia wrote, "s…" just as Bijan finally closed the door but she heard his last words quite clearly.  "You must find him and quickly. The wound…"_

_"I'm done," Cecelia called out to no one in particular and leaned back in the chair.  Her mind was filled with a thousand chaotic thoughts but she replayed the conversation in her mind over and over again.  Was Bijan hiding something and who was wounded?  _

_"…I will be there within the hour.  Call me with any news," Bijan clicked the phone off as he opened the door and walked back into the room.  He stood behind Cecelia for a moment, trying to unsuccessfully gain control over his emotions.  "I apologize for the interruption."_

_"No problem, I'm finished," Cecelia replied and pushed the statement out towards the middle of the table.  "You win."  She couldn't help the last sardonic comment and when Bijan came over and sat down across from her, she certainly wasn't expecting the look of fury on his face. He seemed to be keeping his temper controlled, just barely, the muscle twitching in his cheek the only evidence of his inner struggle._

_"This was never about anyone winning or losing, Miss Adams.  It was about what happened to you and the truth that I feel we should present to my superior," Bijan said quietly and took the statement, folding it in half.  "And we have done just that."_

_"Yes, it's always been about the truth, hasn't it detective?" Cecelia asked with a small smile.  _

_Bijan's ears picked up on the biting tone in how the word 'truth' escaped her lips.  And if it weren't for his other concerns, he would have felt far worse about the scorpion's sting contained within her words.  _

_She ignored the startled look on his face and folded her arms across her chest. Gone was any comfort she may have felt in talking to him over the past few hours; his behavior certainly indicated he was hiding something.  It had all been a game and she felt the horrible feeling like she had been used.     _

_A moment of tense silence hung over the room, and to Cecelia, she would have sworn the usually unflappable detective looked nervous. _

_ "I thank you for your cooperation," Bijan gave Cecelia a weak smile and inserted the statement into the folder.  He saw she wanted to ask another question but he quickly changed the subject, effectively dangling her pending freedom.  "I will get this processed as soon as possible.  With any amount of luck, my superiors will sign the release forms and you can leave in about an hour.  I'll contact your friends so they can come pick you up."_

_"Thanks," Cecelia replied and watched Bijan as he prepared to leave.  He still seemed agitated, glancing at his watch every so often, tugging at the collar of his shirt and stuffing all the papers he had into one briefcase.  He was at the doorway when her impulsive statement stopped him from leaving.  _

_"It's too bad, isn't it?  The Medjai not being real, I mean.  From what I can remember, they all seemed so…honorable.  And brave.  They cared for Ardeth in a way that made you…"_

_"Miss Adams," Bijan turned around and instructed her as if she were a stubborn child.  "Part of our agreement was that nothing leaves this room; no names or descriptions or directions.  The world will never know about what happened to you, what they need to know will most likely come from what will be published in the newspapers.  I know I can trust on your cooperation in keeping this vow of silence, yes?" _

_"Of course," Cecelia replied and swallowed hard against the tears.  Forget Ardeth?  Not likely.  Trying to focus on her anger, she folded her hands as they rested in front of her, a futile effort to stop them from shaking.  "But what about Scott's family, and friends? And everyone else's?  Surely you don't intend to keep the truth from them?"_

_"They will be informed that their loved ones perished in the desert, victims of an unexpected tragedy.  My country will do everything in its power to bring their attackers to justice, extending diplomatic sympathies and complete cooperation in trying to recover the bodies.  Life, as harsh as this may sound Miss Adams," Bijan stopped and offered her a wan smile of assurance, "will go on. I strongly suggest you try and follow that advice."_

_Cecelia didn't reply as Bijan left the room; mixed feelings of grief, despair and suspicions about his behavior battered her deflated spirit, making speech almost impossible.  Why did she feel as if she had lost more than just Scott and her friends that fateful day?  _

_Why did it feel that by returning to this time, she had lost a piece of her heart as well?_

_~*~_

_"Will you please stop manhandling her and let me get in a hug?"  Jamie Richards stood a few inches over five feet in height but her strong and caring demeanor more than compensated for what she lacked in size.  She swatted the shoulder of Eric Hanover and laughed when the young man finally relinquished his hold on Cecelia with a good natured grin._

_"Bossy little wench, aren't you?" Eric asked her and then delighted the two women by hugging them both.  Standing well over six feet in height, Eric was a tall, athletically well built young man with black hair and vivid green eyes.  Charming and friendly, he had known the two women since their college days at the __St Joseph__'s University in __Philadelphia__.      _

_"Are you two arguing?  You both argue so much I'd swear you're a married couple," Cecelia's voice came out muffled since her two best friends were practically smothering her, but at the moment, she didn't care.  They were standing outside the __Cairo__ police station, oblivious to the curious stares from passers-by; the joyful reunion thanks to Cecelia's release from custody a few minutes ago.  And it was just what she needed.  They were both comforting and familiar, reminders of home and family; of a life that used to be normal and routine.  _

_"I don't argue," Jamie giggled and poked Eric in the ribs, laughing at his startled grunt.  "Everyone knows Jolly Green Giant here likes to debate everything, so yell at him."_

_"No yelling, please?" Eric asked and pulled away from the embrace.  "It's bad enough all the attractive women in __Cairo__ think you're my girlfriend."  He winked at Jamie then turned and held Cecelia at arm's length, examining her appearance with a critical eye.  _

_"Jesus Cece," he whispered, using her old nickname.  "What the hell happened to you?  You look like you got stuck on the spin cycle of a dryer and they threw in sand, dirt, stones…"_

_"Pay him no mind," Jamie wrapped an arm around Cecelia's shoulder and the trio started walking back to where Eric had parked the rental car.  "His intelligence tends to meander a bit when he's hungry.  We just need to get you back to your room and cleaned up.  Sometimes a nice, hot shower does wonder for the soul, you know?" _

_"I need to tell you both something important," Cecelia asked and stopped walking._

_She threaded her fingers through her dirty hair and looked at each of her dear friends whilst out of the corner of her eye she saw Bijan leave the police station and hurry across the street.  _

_"I want to tell you what happened to me but more importantly, I need to know…do you trust me?"_

_Eric and Jamie were taken aback by Cecelia's question but they never hesitated with their answers. "Sure we do but why…" Eric started to ask._

_"We need to get to your car and follow that man," Cecelia asked and pointed to the detective getting into a taxi.  She pulled Jamie along by the hand.  "I'll explain everything on the way but you have to do this for me.  Please?"_

_"Oh goody, just what I like…a mystery," Jamie quipped as she was being dragged along.  She glanced back at Eric, saw his reluctant nod of acceptance and turned around, catching up to Cecelia.  "Can you give us any hints? I bet it was either the butler or Colonel Mustard."_

_"Watch out for Jamie, she likes to cheat when playing 'Clue,'" Eric stated with a grin.  He ran alongside the ladies and pointed to the car, fishing the keys out of his pocket.  "Let me try and guess here.  Are we playing 'Cobs and Robbers' now?"_

_"Actually… we're playing with my sanity," Cecelia muttered. _

_~*~_

_The world he had previously known had changed._

_The once unspoiled brilliant blue sky was clouded with smoke and dust.  The streets of the ancient city were clogged with a teeming populace.  _

_Cairo, it would seem, had not aged well and its inhabitants had paid a steep price._

_Children played on the uneven, bumpy roads, often splashing or washing themselves in the dirty sewers.  Traffic was thick and heavy as ubiquitous black and white cars darted through the crowded streets for destinations numerous and unknown.  The buildings were in various stages of disrepair; crumbling, silent sentinels bearing sad testimony to the ravages of wind, time and neglect._

_He had managed to escape from what his fevered mind had deemed his captors and fled into the city, praying for a reprieve from the burning pain that radiated out from the middle of his body.  He had hoped to lose himself within the masses and try to find any contacts from his tribe; signs that his people still existed within this new and troubling world.  _

_Instead he had become an object of great curiosity.  Hands pulled and pawed at him, searching for anything of value, tugging on the thin blanket that covered his shivering frame.  Faces leered at him, looking garish and distorted, and their words were garbled and incomprehensible as they stared at his face, body and hands.  He stumbled from one street to the next, desperately searching for the symbol of the Medjai painted on the wall of a home or building.  Instead he found confusion and exhaustion; his body was rapidly losing its strength as his faltering steps took him deeper in to the heart of the slums and ghettos._

_Hopelessly lost, he cradled one arm against the bloodied bandages wrapped around his midsection, and trudged through the back streets of a neighborhood.  _

_When he collapsed, and was slow climbing to his feet, a kind soul had offered some much-needed aid and directed him towards what he had hoped to be sanctuary.  _

_He never realized that the place of safety would be a police station…_

_~*~_

**_June 1925_**

**_Egypt_****__**

**_The Guardians Citadel "Il Wasi Qal'a"_**

**_…early afternoon… _**

****

"Has anyone ever told you that your Aunt sounds like donkey?" Kedar softly asked, as he gently swiped a cool cloth over Ardeth's fevered body.  He smiled slightly when he heard another screech come from outside the bed chamber and dipped the cloth in the basin of water.  He turned back to Ardeth and wiped his face, frowning when he could feel the heat from Ardeth's skin beneath his fingertips.  

"Wake up, ya sahib and tell me again she is not of your blood.  Argue with me for the love of Allah, you have been asleep far too long."

"Give him time to recover," Raphael spoke up and came around to Kedar's side.  He leaned over and peeled back one edge of the fresh bandage that covered Ardeth's shoulder, examining the wound he had cleaned hours ago with an analytical eye.  "So far, it would appear I have held off the advance of any more infection. A fresh poultice will help his body as it continues to fight what I was unable to cleanse."

"Time may not be what Ardeth has," Kedar replied as he heard the sound of voices raised in anger.  He looked over his shoulder, his eyes almost black with irritation and frustration.  "Lady Dareejah has descended upon this room like a horde of locusts, insisting on seeing Ardeth although he has yet to regain consciousness.  Even a blind man could see that her desire to visit her nephew does not stem from her concern for him but rather the bag we brought back from the desert."

Kedar's gaze darted across the room, to the small table that stood off to one side.  The contents of the pouch Nabil had looked through earlier that morning were strewn across its top; mingled with the papers and books were items such as a wallet, currency and a few unidentifiable objects.   

A satisfied smile flashed across Raphael's handsome face and when he saw Kedar's questioning look, he quickly explained.  "While I may be only a humble healer, I am not without some authority. It is amazing what a few well-worded phrases can do to motivate the Elders in barring anyone else from entering this room except warriors and healers."

Kedar smirked and shook his head.  "Your efforts are appreciated but eventually, even the Elders will cave into Dareejah's shrill demands and allow her access to this room."

"Do you fear for his life?" Raphael asked in surprise.  A startling revelation grew in his mind.  "Surely she would not be so stupid as to try and harm Ardeth…?"

"Dareejah will use whatever means are at her disposal to push aside Ardeth and claim his position as chieftain of the Twelve tribes.  Power can sometimes corrupt and Dareejah had all but a mere taste of it when Ardeth's uncle was alive.  And like a succubus, she thirsts for more," Kedar said and resumed bathing Ardeth's face and body.  "Upon my oath, she will not extinguish the last flame that struggles to burn for the family of Bay.  I shall see her dead first."  

"Although unsolicited, you have my support in this matter, warrior," Raphael stated firmly and placed a hand on Kedar's shoulder.  "I shall do what I can, meager as it may be."

Kedar's grateful response died on his lips when unexpectedly, the doors flew open and the annoying sound of Dareejah's voice filled the room.  Nabil and Solman came in first, carrying between them a semi-conscious Berin with one of his own hands pressed against his bloody side.  

Dareejah skirted around them and ran into the room as Jameel walked in next.  Despite his apparent exhaustion and leg injury, he helped Dharr with Zaki who leaned heavily against them for support.  Fatigued showed in the long, lean lines of his body and Zaki gingerly touched the injured side of his face.  

"Get her out of here!" Kedar bellowed, his eyes black with fury as he rushed over to help Zaki. He saw his friend wince and clutch his head but didn't regret his outburst.  He guided Zaki to a nearby bed and murmured his apology as he helped the warrior lay down.  

Dareejah stood triumphantly in the center of the room, her face contorted with her anger and scorn.  "I have every right to be in here as you do, Commander Ishaq or do I need to remind you that family takes precedence over friends in matters such as this?" She sauntered over to the table, one hand idly stirring up the papers and books, her dark eyes glittering with excitement.  "Force me to exercise my authority and I shall be ever so happy to comply."

Raphael hurried forward to assist those who needed it the most, yet his natural inclination to act as moderator asserted itself.  "Lady Dareejah, perhaps the discussion over the boundaries of your authority could be held later, after I have tended to the wounds of these warriors?" he asked as he quickly assessed Zaki's head injury.  "Surely, you do not wish the Elders to learn that you're well-intentioned appearance in the bed chambers of the Chieftain hampered my abilities to take care of Ardeth's most trusted friends?"

"Healer, I would speak carefully if I were you.  The thinly veiled threat to inform the Elders of my rightful place by my nephew's side would not go unchallenged," Dareejah snapped and picked up a book.  Her eyes widened with surprise and her mercurial mood changed when she read the publication date. It fell back on to the table with a soft thud.  

"Enough," Kedar growled.  

He held no compunction for social etiquette or clever verbal sparring.  He responded based on his lack of patience and the desire to rid everyone of the annoying she-devil.  Before Dareejah could react, he stormed over to where she stood, bent down and caught her around the knees.  Quickly flipping her flailing body over his shoulder, Kedar carried the now screaming woman out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him.  

"Should someone else go out and talk to her?" Dharr asked. He frowned when his comment elicited a few chuckles. 

"I believe I am speaking for us all when I say no one has any desire to talk to Lady Dareejah," Nabil gave a brief smile.  He sat by Berin's side, offering what comfort he could and applying some pressure to the wound.

"I would almost prefer talking to the priest," Solman spoke up, feeling that his comment was important for everyone to know.  "I do not like that lady."

Everyone flinched with they heard another one of Kedar's angry bellows, a sound of fury no amount of wood or distance could smother.  A moment later, Kedar returned and the door banged shut behind him. He locked it and turned around to find everyone staring at him with a mixture of amusement and horror on their faces.  Dareejah continued with her tantrum outside the door.  

"What?" he asked and walked over to Zaki's side.

Nabil and Dharr exchanged worried glances.  "Was that wise to do, ya ukh?" Nabil asked.  "You may have fanned the flames of indignation and hatred even higher."

"I see no harm in what I have done," Kedar replied and helped Raphael clean Zaki's face.  "I simply took out the trash."

"I meant no harm by bringing Berin and the others here," Nabil stated worriedly.  "I could have taken them to the healer's compound where Makin is staying. My intentions were to keep everyone who had contact with the Outworlder together for the purpose of clarifying our stories.  Dareejah will not let this incident go without a full investigation."

"Be at ease," Kedar said to Nabil and glanced over at Ardeth, relieved to see him sleeping comfortably.  "A wise decision, especially in light of her past actions but I must ask, what in the name of Allah happened? Did Zayn take the woman back to her own time?"

"Aiwa," Jameel sighed and eased his battered body down onto another bed.  "But there was a complication…"

"Where is Sharif?" Solman asked and started to look around for his friend.

~*~

_A/N –  If I missed any translations, let me know.  _

_As always, thank you SO much for reading and leaving reviews, [they make my day, especially after working another 50 hr week] although the way FF has been acting lately has me worried and baffled.  LOL I know **Marcher and Marxbros both left me wonderful reviews on the last part but after reading them, I deleted them from my inbox, thinking FF would show them when I logged on.  No such luck.  **__L__  Its past __midnight__ right now and I can hardly remember if I have pants on, let alone what the reviews said…LOL!  _

**_So for the shout-outs:_**

****

**_Marxbros and Marcher – _**_Thanks so much for reading and I appreciate the feedback.  The general feeling I got from your kind reviews was that I certainly kept you off center with the introduction of Dareejah and a Medjai thrown forwards in time. I hope that this part and the one to follow will leave you exactly the way I want to…wanting more.  LOL_

**_Dawn369 – _**_So here's a thought regarding the balance thing…what would happen if Zayn tried to take Sharif back to his time, and the rift didn't open?  Oh the possibilities…lol_

**_Deana – _**_Thanks for the review and by the way, have no fear, I'm working on posting more of H4.  Would you believe I wasn't happy with a few Ardeth/Rick scenes and need to rewrite them?  ~ugh!~ LOL Will you do some more dancing when you read about Ardeth in the next part? LOL_

**_Ladybug – _**_Aw, my sweet friend, thanks for the review. You said to find Sharif some help in the otherworld, well what do you think of Jamie and Eric?  _

**_Serena1221 – _**_I'm glad the introduction of Dareejah has made such an impact and be warned; she has a lot more nastiness up her sleeves. You know what I'm fond of saying…"You ain't seen bad but its coming."  Thanks for reading!_

**_Patty – _**_Hopefully this part balanced out some things for you, a small taste of Ardeth, and of course, hang in there…as I said to Deana, there is more H4 coming.  _

**_Lori – _**_Fifth chapter?  You don't need no stinking fifth chapter!  LOL Hope you enjoyed reading this one, and I'm glad Thias' inability to control his lust around Dareejah didn't take anything out of the story.  As for TV – erm, I'm usually on the computer. LOL_

**_Serena – _**_No need to cry, perhaps someday Ardeth and Cecelia will be reunited.  If you were Cecelia, wouldn't you do anything to return to the arms of __Ardeth__Bay__?  LOL_

**_Cindy – _**_You asked and shall receive.  LOL No, Ardeth's aunt is not a nice person and in the next story, she's brings in an unlikely ally in the form of Ardeth's cousin.  But I guess you'll have to wait and see, won't you?  Heh heh_

**_Dreamy – _**_High praise indeed coming from you my friend, as I can honestly say I love reading your stories.  Hopefully this wasn't too long between updates…_

**_But yes, one more part to go…and then this story is over.  But as I said to Cindy, there is a sequel. How can there not be?  I have to get Cecelia back to Ardeth or vice versa somehow, right?  LOL  _**


	6. Part VI

_Part VI_

_"This is insane," Eric mumbled in annoyance and gripped the steering wheel tighter.  _

_He looked up and down the busy street, shaking his head.  They had lost the detective a few blocks ago when he got out of the cab at a busy intersection.  "Did either of you see which way this guy went?"_

_Jamie stuck her head out of one window, oblivious to the reproachful glare coming from Cecelia sitting next to her.  "Hang on, I think I see him," she said._

_"So much for being inconspicuous," Cecelia grumbled and yanked her friend back inside the car just as it leaped forward into traffic.  Both women squealed in surprise when they almost tumbled off the backseat.  _

_"I got him," Eric called out as he stepped on the accelerator, the car's engine making a grinding noise as he shifted gears. He zipped past cars and pedestrians, his eyes focused on the target a few blocks ahead.  _

_"Will you slow down?" Jamie admonished Eric.  "This isn't NASCAR for God's sake.  And I thought the idea was to follow the detective to see where he was going, not to try and run him down?" _

_"Hell, from what Cece has told us about him, running him over aint' such a bad idea," Eric replied and stared into the rearview mirror. He saw Cecelia's face and watched her eyes widen in terror.  "What?" he asked.  _

_"Truck!" Cecelia cried out and pointed to oncoming traffic._

_"Crap!" Eric muttered and pulled sharply on the wheel, the car swerving to the left.  He slammed on the brakes, dodging around a donkey-pulled cart obstructing one side of the road.  "I lost him.  I think I blew by him so hang on…time for a U-bie."_

_"I think I'm going to be sick," Cecelia groaned and braced herself, one arm against the ceiling of the car, one leg pushed against the back of Eric's seat._

_"Don't get sick now," Jamie said and positioned herself just like Cecelia.  "You're so close to finding this detective and talking to him again.  Rescinding your statement may not be such a good idea but we're here to support you. That's what friends are for, right?"_

_"Besides, how often does a guy like me get to say he drove around the streets of Cairo with two hot chicks in his backseat, acting like a stunt driver or a 'Starsky and Hutch' reject?" Eric asked with a hoot of laugher.  _

_"I think Eric has lost his mind," Jamie sighed dramatically.  _

_"What mind?" Eric gleefully replied and zipped around a stalled car in the left lane.    _

_"Both of you know I appreciate this," Cecelia said and smiled at her friends.  "Who cares about __Greece__?  It will always be there but like I said, I just can't leave __Egypt__ knowing that the truth I told was twisted into something not even close.  I owe it to Scott, the team…I owe it to myself and those men who rescued me to set the record straight."_

_"Hang on girlies, we're going around the block," Eric called out.  He brought the car to a screeching stop and then turned the steering wheel, accelerating down an alleyway.  It flew over a dip in the road, and when he looked in the mirror, he saw that Jamie and Cecelia had fallen to the floor in a tangled heap of arms and legs.  "Sorry about that but there's an opening coming up ahead.  I think I'm gonna proceed with caution."_

_"Caution is not what you're proceeding with," Jamie tried to smack Eric's shoulder as she struggled to pull herself up.    _

_"Do we even know where we're at?" Cecelia asked as she crawled back into her seat.  _

_She took a deep, shaky breath; she was on the brink of exhaustion, well aware that her body was running on pure adrenalin at the moment.  The heat of the chase, the desire to denounce her statement and profess the truth, the belief that in doing so would somehow make Ardeth seem real to her once again fueled Cecelia's body. Somehow she had managed to stay awake, despite the beating her body was suffering at the hands of Eric's driving skill._

_"We be in __Cairo__ baby," Eric said as he slowed the car down, his eyes focused intently on the alley in front of him.  "Now shhhhh…I'm huntin' a vewwy wascally wabbit."_

_"Oh God," Jamie groaned at Eric's Elmer Fudd impersonation and looked imploringly at Cecelia.  "Are you sure you want to do this?"_

_Cecelia nodded her head.  "I have no choice."_

_~*~_

_Bijan stood in the opening of the alley and paused for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck to ease the tension.  He cursed himself for the hundredth time as a fool for thinking an inexperienced Traveler like Zayn could have performed a transfer with little or no problem.  He should have ordered another one to accompany Zayn, or had given him more explicit directions.  _

_…or perhaps two days ago when Zayn had first appeared at the abandoned warehouse they used as temporary quarters, with the warrior leaning against him as his life's blood dripped to the ground… _

_"Yaha," Bijan growled and mentally kicked himself.  _

_There would be time enough later for self-depreciation; now he needed to focus on trying to save a life.  Normally his instincts would have warned him he was being followed but he was distracted by his concern in finding the warrior as soon as possible.  With Zayn's help, he had managed to piece together a rough idea of where to go, at times following nothing more than a ruby colored trail left on the ground.  _

_It had surprised him that the warrior had gotten his far, considering his fever and deteriorating condition.  Bijan decided to change tactics and pursue him on foot. He ordered Zayn to search another street and keep in contact using the cell phone. Guessing he had to be close to where the warrior was last seen, Bijan crept out into a small open area of the alleyway - an intersection where four lanes met.    _

_Someone or something was moving up ahead and cautiously Bijan moved forward._

_~*~_

_He felt like his body was being blasted by the force of a noonday sun and he stumbled, landing heavily against the side of a building.  Sweat trickled down his face, often obscuring his vision as he continually fought to remain conscious now._

_Dark spots danced in his peripheral vision, threatening to grow larger and consume him.  He pushed himself to move on with a Herculean effort, the blanket that had covered his shoulders floating down to the ground, fluttering like a flag of surrender.  He took a few faltering steps and stumbled out into an open area; wildly he looked for a place to hide.  He never saw the car bearing down on him from a blind side._

_~*~_

_"Look out!" Jamie screamed and pointed to the figure of a man that had suddenly and inexplicably appeared in front of the car.  _

_Eric had just pulled into an alley opening when he had to slam on the brakes, the front end of the car diving forward from its forward momentum being so drastically halted.  His eyes were wide with horror, his hands gripped the steering wheel as he waited for crash; waiting to hear the sickening sound of a body hitting the hood of the car. _

_"God no…" he whispered.  _

_Time seemed to move in slow motion for Cecelia as she watched the horrible scene unfold before her.  The man seemed oblivious to his surroundings, until the awful sound of tires screeching and a car horn blowing caught his attention.  He awkwardly spun around, the skin of his upper torso glistening, highlighting the dark tattoos that graced his lean body.  The red stained bandages swathed around his middle did little to distract the attention away from his face and Cecelia found herself remembering…_

…dark, thick waves of hair that danced sparsely across his brow and flowed down to his broad shoulders.  

_Too late he saw the danger he was in; his eyes…those wonderfully colored eyes…_

…dark amber and fringed by long lashes; his face was clean-shaven.

_"Sharif…" Cecelia remembered everything and cried out from the memories that flooded her mind.  Even as she braced herself for the horrible impact, her overloaded mind and body finally betrayed her.  She fainted before the impact ever came.  _

_~*~_

_They came together in a deserted alleyway in __Cairo__; each appearing for reasons known to themselves or each other.  For duty, for friendship, for the sake of a world yet to be discovered, they had all converged at this point.  It would remain forever etched in their memories as a defining moment when they knew that somehow, their lives would be changed forever.  _

_Bijan knelt down next to the body and with an uncharacteristic tenderness brushed the damp hair back from the warrior's face.  The sense of failure and sorrow unlike anything he had ever felt before crushed his heart as he searched for something to place over the warrior's face to serve as a death shroud. It was the least he could do._

_"Shouldn't we call the police?"_

_The question reminded Bijan of the unwanted witnesses to this fiasco and he looked up to find them all staring at him.  Thankfully it was Zayn who had saved him from responding. He ducked his head, amazed that he was unable to look into the eyes of Cecelia Adams. She stood off to one side, her eyes blazing with anger and unspoken accusations. Her body was rigid and unyielding as her friend pulled her up against his side in a gesture of comfort.  She brushed off his touch and Bijan could literally feel the weight of her brooding stare upon him.  So much to atone for – or should he even try?_

_"There is no need.  We will take care of the body," Zayn gently replied and knelt down on the other side of it.    _

_"You son of a bitch."  Cecelia saw Bijan wince but she didn't care; nothing mattered except finally getting to the truth. "How could you?  You lied to me, made me feel like I was losing my mind…put me through hell and now, you can't even look at me in the face."_

_"Easy, Cece," Eric said and tried to stop her from going over to the detective.  _

_"No," Cecelia shrugged off Eric's hand and marched over to Bijan.  "He owes me an explanation and I want to hear it."_

_"Perhaps this can wait for later," Bijan stod up, thinking to try and reason with Cecelia.  _

_"No, we're going to discuss this now!" Cecelia snapped and stood defiantly in front of Bijan._

_"Want me to hold him, so you can punch him in the mouth?" Eric asked Cecelia with a sly grin. He mentally assessed the detective and maybe figured the weight advantage would be on his side._

_"Yes."_

_Jamie tried to intervene and waved her hands in front of Cecelia and Eric.  "Have you two lost your minds?  We've got a dead man here and all you two can think about is kicking the shit out of the authorities."_

_"No, but he implied Cecelia lost her sanity," Eric jabbed a finger at Bijan, his eyes darkening with anger.  When he saw the other man look at him in surprise, Eric snorted with laughter.  "Oh yeah, pal, she told us everything.  You're a real slick bastard, aren't you?"_

_"Your accusations are unfounded and inaccurate," Bijan snapped.   "I did what was necessary_

_"Um, guys…" Jamie said and stared down at Zayn, wondering what he was doing.  She watched him press his fingers against the neck of the man and heard his surprised gasp a second later._

_"Allah be praised…" Zayn breathed and bent over the man's chest, listening for a heartbeat.  "Bijan," he called out, "this may sound incredible but he lives…Sharif lives!"_

_Cecelia reached out and stopped Bijan from going to Sharif's side by grabbing his arm.  The antagonists stared at one another for a long moment, the silence between them filled with emotions.  _

_"Well Detective Rasheed-Mudawar," Cecelia said, the tone of her voice sharp and brittle, "it would appear that I have been given the rare opportunity to prove that you're wrong - something that I have a feeling doesn't happen to you very often."_

_Bijan gave Cecelia a satirical smile and a slight bow of his head.  "Go ahead, Miss Adams.  We both know what you need to say."_

_"Does this mean I get to hit him?" Eric asked hopefully but was hushed by Jamie._

_"No, this means I remember everything," Cecelia answered softly.  _

_Strange, she didn't feel a headache coming on.  "I recall names, faces, those that took care of me, and those that helped me ride away from danger.  I also remember who rescued me that night; I will never forget his name for my heart won't allow it.  You say that they don't exist, Detective?   I say you're wrong."  _

_She pointed down to the warrior being tended to by Zayn. "The Medjai do exist."_

_~*~_

_Epilogue:  A prelude for things to come…_

In the serene, cathedral-like quiet of his room, with the full orb of the moon hanging in its eternal berth in the night sky, Ardeth regained consciousness.  

Awareness came back in gradual stages and the first thing Ardeth was surprised to learn was that he was resting in his own bed.  Slowly moving his body, testing its limitations, his gaze swept over the semi-darkened room.  The second surprise came when he learned he wasn't alone.  

"Kedar?"  Ardeth's voice was hoarse from lack of use.  Gritting his teeth against the white hot pain flaring up from his shoulder and the weakness that left him shaking, Ardeth foolishly tried to sit up.  

"Sahil, ya sahib, sahil," Kedar instructed with a shake of his head and placed a comforting hand on Ardeth's good shoulder, pushing him back down.  "Raphael did not expect you to regain consciousness for quite some time, and yet you surprise me with your resiliency. Or is it your stubbornness, I wonder, that wrestles you from the comforting realm of sleep?"

"It is concern," Ardeth sighed and fell back against the pillows.  He clenched his teeth as his shoulder throbbed with a breath-stealing intensity; slowly it abated and he gave a tired sigh of relief.  "Did everyone return safely to the Citadel?" 

Kedar glanced around the room before answering.  Nabil sat alongside Berin's bedside, dozing, since the sub commander appeared to be resting comfortably.  In a nearby bed, the halo of Jameel's dark curls was barely visible above the covers; he had burrowed into the pillows.  Across from him, Raphael was checking Zaki's bandages, apparently satisfied that his patient was resting comfortably under the healing blanket of sleep.  

"Aiwa, for the most part," he replied and thought of Sharif.

"What do you mean?  And what of the woman?" Ardeth asked.  "You sent her back?"  

The tone of his voice was one of resigned acceptance, knowing the laws of his people, yet craving to see her again - wishing that he could have touched her one last time.

Kedar ignored the question and moved closer, a teasing light in his eyes.  "You know she called me 'a handsome devil'", he taunted and tried to draw a smile from Ardeth's face.

It worked for a brief moment; dark eyes lit up with humor as a ghost of a smile twitched at the corners of Ardeth's mouth.  "She must have been delirious," he answered, and then just as quickly, the smile was gone.  Ardeth sighed softly, feeling horrible.  The trauma his body had undergone over the past day had extracted a heavy price and even as he fought to remain awake, he still had to ask.  

"Tell me it was real, Kedar.  Tell me that I am not going insane."

Kedar studied his friend closely.  For a brief moment, he considered lying to Ardeth, pleading ignorance, and telling him he didn't know what he was talking about, but he knew he couldn't.  It might have made everything less complicated, but it would have been wrong.  Besides, he had no idea how he was going to explain Sharif's disappearance or how they were going to get him back.  

"It was real, ya ukh," he finally answered, his voice a soft rumble.  "However, we are still undecided on the insane issue."

Ardeth's laughter was quick, but short-lived.  "Would you like to explain to me what in Allah's name possessed you to kiss the mara?" Kedar continued, needing to understand what his friend was going through.  "Surely you understood what she was – a barranidinyi."

Ardeth shifted on the bed, unsure if he could explain his feelings or why she had somehow touched him in a way that no mara other had ever done.  "I understood," he answered, his gaze becoming unfocused as he stared off into nothing, reliving their few moments together over and over in his head.

Kedar's sharp intake of breath drew him back to the present.  "Ir-raHman Allah, you have fallen in love with her."

Ardeth hesitated, and then shook his head slowly.  "I do not…" he sighed again.  "I do not know what I feel exactly, but I do know there is this urgent need to see her again."

  
His eyes met those of his blood brother, a pleading look for understanding shinning brightly in them.  "In the very short time I was with her, she affected me and now that she has returned to her own time, I am left wondering if my feelings for her are real – if what passed between us was real."

Kedar growled softly, a large hand came up and plunged through his wild mass of black hair.  "Yaha," he grumbled under his breath, fighting the impulse, but already knowing he would do whatever he could to help Ardeth.  His dark eyes lifted to meet Ardeth's, and he cursed silently to himself when he saw his friend's struggle to remain awake.     

"I need to see her again…" Ardeth's voice faded away and his eyes fluttered close, only to open a moment later when he heard Kedar's reply.

"Then you may get your wish.  The transfer did not go as planned; Berin's group was attacked and Sharif was critically injured.  In an attempt to save his life, he was pulled by the Traveler into the other realm – your mara's world," Kedar said.   

_To be continued in "The Other Side"_

~*~

_A/N – Do not despair gentle reader, this may be the end of this story but there's more to come in the sequel. A heartfelt thanks to all of my faithful reviewers, you know who you are, who took the time out of their busy lives to let me know how they were enjoying this story as it unfolds.  Your comments are often what inspired me to take you all on another twist or curve in the adventure of Ardeth and the boys.  _

_Special thanks to Ladybug for graciously allowing me to play and beat up her boys, Kedar and Zaki.  And for practically writing that last scene with Kedar and Ardeth.  Shukran, ya hulu sahib.  _

_And finally to my beta, Tori, who despite back pain from all the rain we've been getting, managed to make sense of what I submitted and tightening it up in a few spots.  Rock on, Tori!  LOL  _

**_Time for the shout-outs:_**

****

**_Dawn369 – _**_Thanks for reading and reviewing, Kedar's comment seems to be quite popular and Dareejah not.  LOL She may be out of the room but not out of contention for evil villainess.  _

**_Deana – _**_I know I owe you some reviews my friend for your Ardeth story, "No Rest for the Weary" and I promise to catch up with all the chaos you put poor Ardeth through real soon. LOL Thanks for reading this, it's greatly appreciated_

**_Kathy – _**_If you want, I can throw your character into Ardeth's room right now, if you'd like so you can take care of Ardeth, Berin, Jameel and Zaki.  LOL Thanks for reading!_

**_Cindy – _**_I hope you like Cecelia's friends, they will become her lifelines in the next story and wonder no more about the detective…we all know what he is, or do we?  _

**_Patty – _**_A confrontation between Cecelia and Dareejah?  OoOoooOOOO, the possibilities.  LOL!  Thanks for reading and we shall see about this pending cat fight.  _

**_Marxbros – _**_High praise coming from you my friend, especially when I tell people about "Hereafter."  Yeah, I've become your publicist along with __Ruse__'s.  LOL Thanks so much for the lovely review and I'm glad I was able to keep you off center through all of this.  _

**_Ruse_****_ - __A trip from hell?  Gads my friend, at least your back safe and sound, yes?  I see you've finished "Speak Softly" and shall review asap.  Does this mean you'll get back to your LOTR/Mummy fanfic now?  *nudge nudge*  Thanks for the compliments and another writer I've been telling my friends about…you have a way with words, dearheart.  Not me.  *wink*_**

_And finally in closing, I must leave my favorite motto which pretty much sums up Dareejah's character.  "You ain't seen bad…but it's coming."  Thank you one and all!  Peace!  _


End file.
